Tracking 101
by purple-goose
Summary: When Locke is no longer supplying the camp with boar, Kate teaches others how to track. Take places after “All the Best Cowboys Have Daddy Issues Kate, Sawyer, Sayid, Arzt
1. Chapter 1

**Tracking 101 (pg-13, Kate, Sawyer, Sayid, Arzt)**

**Title**: Tracking 101

Part 1 of 6

**Author: ** purplegoose

**Rating**: PG-13 language, adult humor

**Featured Characters**: Kate, Sawyer, Sayid, Arzt

**Summary**: When Locke is no longer supplying the camp with boar, Kate teaches others how to track. (Take places after "All the Best Cowboys Have Daddy Issues)

**Author's Notes/Disclaimer**: I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I own any rights to the television show "Lost". They were created by JJ Abrams and Damon Lindelof and they belong to them, Touchstone, and ABC.

_Special thanks to super betas MrsTater and WhoKnowsWhy., I would have abandoned this beyond this point without their help, encouragement, prodding, and support._

Chapter 1

Kate leaned into the branch, and pushed the one in front of her to the left. A bit more effort – there! She watched for a moment, then inhaled deeply. She opened her eyes and scanned the patch of sky. It was close and blue. It was so achingly beautiful, and the best she could come up with was that it was close and blue. That was wrong. It sang of openness and space and freedom and emptiness and simplicity, and the best she could do was say that it was close and blue

That didn't stop her from grinning from ear to ear. At this moment, in this mango tree, on this limb, with that mango right there about to be plucked, Kate Ryan/Austin/Dodd was happy. It made no sense. She couldn't explain it, describe it, or justify it without destroying it. Or maybe she could, but who wanted to wallow in the past? Life in a mango tree on an island was good today.

And it didn't have to be a mango tree.

Kate released the branch and quit leaning. She resumed harvesting, dropping the fruit into the backpack – technically a front pack at this moment, she noted with a smaller smile. It gave her joy to find legitimacy in tree climbing today. She was able to satisfy part of her compulsion to pitch in, be needed, by picking fruit, and could still be alone. To pick the best fruit answered a bit more. To pick the best fruit, she had to climb trees. By climbing tall trees -

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an animal of some size moving in the undergrowth just beyond her line of sight. She pulled herself closer to the trunk, adjusting her feet so that she was solidly set. She tried to ignore the racing of her heart. It wasn't the Thing, not enough noise for that. Maybe it was just a boar. It didn't have to be Ethan.

Or was it a bear? A much slower bear than the one that Sawyer shot with the marshal's gun. Black bears climb but did polar bears? Would a polar bear climb when living on a tropical island? Her mind provided the big white paws scratching through the black bark, then the black nose preceding the mouth of sharp ivory teeth speckled with blood up the tree trunk after her.

Relief flushed through her as Sayid limped from the tall growth. He paused to pull a vine from his staff.

"Hey," she called. "Can polar bears climb trees?"

The dark man paused, resting on his tall cane. He raised his right hand to deflect the late afternoon sun, looking upward. "Hello, Kate." He located her and watched, waiting.

She loosened her grip, plucked a mango, and dropped it into the backpack. "You were making a lot of noise." She picked another.

"Jack sent me. You've been gone for some time." Dropping the staff, he shucked his backpack and began to root in its contents.

That was quite the mood killer. This was getting so old. She wasn't pregnant, wasn't helpless, and could even feed herself. "How did you find me?" Another mango stem snapped and fruit dropped into the bag.

"Walt saw you leave. He pointed the direction. I stayed the path with the most fruit trees." He took a deep drink.

"And you made it all this way by yourself?" She scanned the branches. All ripe fruit within arm's reach was taken. She started down the trunk.

He seemed to consider this. "I asked Walt to join me, but he was busy protecting his dog."

Hit noted. She jumped the last few feet. "I'm sorry, Sayid." She brushed her hands on her hips. "But I can take care of myself."

He offered the bottle. She shook her head.

"It's only been three days since Claire was taken. Jack is justifiably concerned for the safety of…" he was clearly seeking a phrase that wouldn't irritate. He abandoned the effort. "You."

Her lips made a straight line as she zipped her backpack, pulling it on her back. She freed her pony tail with her hand. "Do you think he's right?"

"Jack did say that Ethan's strength was unusual. I am not comfortable with the idea of you trying to confront him."

"C'mon, Sayid, I'm not stupid enough to take him on. I'm too fast a runner." In more ways than one.

"Provided that he didn't surprise you, that would serve, I suppose." He didn't sound convinced.

"Maybe Jack should be concerned with everyone then. Look at you. Why send you? You can't run."

"Most of the men are busy searching for Claire. As you noted, I find it difficult to be stealthy."

Men on this island seemed incapable of a straight answer. She frowned, staring hard at him.

He broke eye contact as he returned the bottle to the pack. He carefully lowered himself to retrieve the rod. They began towards the beach.

"If it makes you feel any better, I suspect that Jack was trying to prop up my masculine spirits." Sayid smiled weakly at her.

"I think you mean bolster your male ego." She mentally sighed at the slow gait. It could very well be dark by the time they made it back to the beach. She could appreciate company in the dark if the company wasn't the cause of her to be in the dark. She resisted the urge to run ahead.

Sayid flushed lightly. "Yes, that." A small smile crossed his mouth as his eye slid to meet hers. "As you can imagine, there was not much call for the phrase in Baghdad."

Kate grimaced wryly. "How's the leg?"

This garnered a half smile. "I imagine that my trail is fairly distinctive with this stick."

Kate glanced down at the ground, pushing away a broad and mangled leaf with her toe. "Yep. Even in this dry spot, you can see the marks pretty plain."

"You can track?"

His tone – the wonder in it - stung.

"Yes," she said curtly, turning to him. "I can actually track a little."

Damn straight she could track. And a lot more than a little. Her father did not permit less than complete mastery once he made up his mind that she was going to learn something. Getting there might be on the painful side – her first lesson trailing deer for eight hours and wanting to cry for at least two of those hours because she was tired and hungry and couldn't because he would make her stay out longer – but her set of skills were honed.

One skill in particular the old man had no idea he was polishing was her ability of smiling as she seethed. It accompanied almost every lesson. There hadn't been much call for it on the island in the beginning. That seemed to be shifting as time went on. It was a true survival art. She should have thanked the old bastard.

"I lacked the foresight to learn." He creased his brow, then sighed. "I'm sorry that I offended you." It was pretty clear that he had no idea where the insult lay.

"It doesn't matter," said Kate, though exactly what didn't matter was open. She lifted a shoulder in an attempt to shift the backpack's contents. "If you're thinking about helping track Claire, there's nothing to follow now. Even Locke can't pick anything up. Rain, people trampling all over. Even if you could go out today, all the skill in the world isn't going to do any good."

They trudged in silence for a time. Kate gave him a sideways glance. Sayid was plainly pondering. She gave him several yards, then asked, "What?"

Sayid took a few minutes, uncertain of either the words or the idea, and then said slowly, "Rousseau said that there are others on the island. Is it possible to examine the perimeter of our camp for tracks that are not ours?"

Kate turned over the question, and shook her head. "I'm no expert, but I don't think so. Not unless there's something unique about them. We couldn't tell their tracks from ours." She could see that this wasn't what he wanted to hear. "We can ask Locke what he thinks."

Sayid frowned. "That isn't necessary. I trust your judgment."

She wished that she could hear Jack say that.

Of course Sayid didn't know as much about her as Jack. The Iraqi was pretty much taking her as she presented herself: brave, resourceful, upfront. Pretty Kate who would trek into the jungle or up mountains, climb trees to hang antenna to improve the odds of rescue; who gathered fruit to share; who carried water back to camp: it was good to see this reflection in this man's eyes. Not the Kate with a number across her chest; the one that showed in Jack's at times when he looked at her.

She found it interesting that of all the men, it was the Middle Eastern one who treated her most like an equal. He took her into his confidence about the electronic equipment that he was building; when the water disappeared, they worked as a team to discover the culprit. Obviously, they weren't a crack investigative team but she appreciated the right to be wrong with him on level ground. She liked that he could be angry around her - shout, throw things – without worrying that he was frightening her. Or displace that anger in her direction. When he disagreed with the coterie, he didn't just argue with Jack, he appealed to all.

Yet, she was aware that Sayid had been interested in her as a woman for a time. When living by wits and charm, a female had better be able to tell when a man was sniffing around. He never acted on it, although she caught a look or two, noting how he would step just one step closer to talk to her, the satisfied looks that he made when she put Sawyer down.

She couldn't play it loose enough to keep the intrigue going.

Jack was a beacon – the good guy, the hero. He represented what was inside of her, what no one could see except Tom, what she fought so hard to bring to the surface to be thwarted time and again. If she would have had some breaks: a different father, a brother to share the scrutiny, money, she would be the female Jack. So, when Jack approached as she was talking with Sayid, the conversation ended; she followed Jack.

She pretended to miss the fleeting expression of annoyance on Sayid's face.

Besides, how did you flirt with a guy like Sayid? Where to place the appeal? He seemed to have a no nonsense edge that argued against flattery. The eye roll that he shared with her as Shannon and Boone bickered before the mountain climb spoke volumes to that.

She considered the damsel in distress flavor, but it would cost her the equal footing that she enjoyed so much. Kate didn't see Sayid talking to Shannon, seeking out Shannon's company as he did initially with Kate. Add to it damsels didn't climb trees, didn't go on hunts, and would be impossible for her to maintain. So, playing up the helpless or the pretty wasn't the right angle to win him over.

Since hitting the mid twenties, age wasn't the card to throw out with men under forty. Neither was insinuating familiarity. Besides, both of those circled back to flattery.

Sayid did seem to appreciate competence. So, she was competent around him, level headed. But it paled in comparison to the coquette that could emerge near Jack. Try as she might, she couldn't keep the Sayid option open.

Since the day that she raced away to dig Jack out of the cave-in, Sayid's interest to her diminished. Well, that was also when he lay on the hilltop all night, his absence unnoted while she sat next to Jack in his new Kate-made sling. That day probably smashed his attraction to her like someone smashed the transceiver.

There was a strange feeling of loss at the realization.

What would she see in his eyes now if she really looked? Did a man have to be attracted to her not to see the ugly that she had lived?

She turned her head and realized that she was quite a distance ahead of Sayid. She took the opportunity to study him as he hobbled towards her in the jungle's gloaming.

His face was guarded. He seemed to be listening to - or was it for? – something. His eyes swept back and forth through the trees, but didn't see her. He was an intense person, that much she figured from the start, but right now he looked like he could jump right out of his skin.

Just what happened on his trip up the beach? He came back, frantic about them not being the only ones on the island. Disturbing and sadly not soon enough, but what was it about these others that caused him to look like this? What had the French woman told him to make him so edgy? Was there something besides the Thing to worry about in the jungle?

He drew even with her. "Kate, you can go ahead. I'll be fine." The face he presented friendly, the edges gone.

"And knock down that masculine spirit Jack worked so hard to prop up?" she teased with a smile. He was a nice man. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe they could be friends. She hadn't really had a friend since Tom. She could use a friend. "Just what happened out there, Sayid? What did Rousseau do to you?"

He shifted uncomfortably and resumed walking. "It is as I told you and Jack. I was taken prisoner after I was ensnared by one of her traps. That's how my leg was hurt." The guarded look was creeping back.

"She sounds nuts to me." She fell in beside him. "Traps?"

"It is not 'nuts' to protect your perimeter," he said, almost sternly. "We would do well to take a lesson from her. You would do the same if in her position, I'm certain. Besides, I'm not clear if she set them up for the Others or the bears."

"How did you get that cut on your head?"

"I fell." His eyes grew shuttered.

This was annoying. She paced him now, side by side. "Thank you for the details. You hurt your leg," she counted on her fingers. "You cut your head. There are others on the island. I'm flooded with useful information."

His chin betrayed stubbornness; the staff hit the ground with more force.

"Sayid," she touched his arm.

He recoiled, dropping the staff. He frowned, stooping slowly to retrieve it, his cheeks flushed as she watched him move awkwardly.

He refused to meet her gaze when he straightened.

"So what do we do so no one else has to deal with her?" asked Kate.

Sayid paused, put the cane to ground, and began again to walk.

"We stay out of the jungle." He still refused eye contact but she could see that his expression was closed. His voice was clipped.

"That's not so practical, is it? We've stripped the fruit from the trees near the beach." Kate pushed aside a low hanging vine. "Besides, aren't we in the jungle right now?"

"**Her** part of the jungle."

"What part is that?" She used her reasonable voice. He would respond to it.

"We will know when we have encroached it."

"Not the best way of avoiding trouble." Kate knew her tone was shifting towards annoyed. This wasn't like him; he was not going to come anywhere near reason after all. She could try the topic later; maybe have Jack give it a go. She stole another glance at him.

He was scared.

The recognition made her stomach flutter, the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

They continued in silence for some time.

"I walked north on the beach," he spoke softly, the stubbornness gone from his tone. "Approximately twenty kilometers. Then I went into the jungle."

She processed this, narrowing her eyes. "That's too far for most of us. We probably don't have anything to worry about it. It wouldn't hurt to warn everyone anyway." Kate reached and touched his arm again. "Sayid, are you okay?"

They had just left him in the infirmary when he came back. Jack dressed the leg and they took off to find Claire and Charlie. No one checked on him that she knew. They sat around the fire with Charlie that night, trying to lend the young man strength, happy that he was still alive, thrilled to have him back.

Kate knew the solitude of strength.

He gave a single shake of the head, again looking only ahead. She bit her lip and sighed.

They moved slowly as the darkness gathered.

"I will be ….okay once we get to the beach," he said it quietly. He was still watching ahead, no eye contact was made. "And in time."

She didn't acknowledge it. It seemed better that way.

The walk was soon automatic, allowing her mind to wander. She recalled the last time that she and Sayid walked together. It was the day of triangulating with the ill-fated antenna. They had been discussing the crash and luck when Sawyer joined them.

Sawyer. What to think about Sawyer? Somehow, without a single clue from her, he knew that they were cut from similar cloth. He puzzled out that she wasn't the pretty and good girl. So, did that make him smarter than Sayid? Would Jack have been able to do the same if the marshal hadn't had that copy of her mug shot in his jacket pocket?

Just how had Sawyer figured her out? She was abrupt with him, disdaining. Despite her put downs, her attempts at keeping her distance, he saw the running Kate. She wanted to identify the crack in her façade he glimpsed so she could plaster over it. She needed it covered so Jack's reliance on a mug shot would give way to the pretty and good Kate's actions. It had to be plastered by the time they got off this forsaken island.

The memory of the kiss interrupted the panic of that need. She smiled to herself, feeling her face grow warm. Why was it the one that she least wanted to want, was probably the man who could kiss the best? She slid a sly glance at the dark haired man at her side. If those eyes were any indication, Sayid would melt her bones. So he was probably inept, she mused ruefully. Would Jack be clinical or would all that repression break free so he could use all those anatomy classes on her anatomy, making her scream?

Kate liked to scream. It had been a long time since she had the pleasure.

She never figured a raggedy-hair redneck could push his tongue in her mouth and awaken the genie of desire. It had been some time since she thought much beyond working to stay free. Keeping a step ahead of Mars kept her attention on moving, not a man's mouth, hands. Even a one-night stand could be fatal to her freedom. She did not miss the irony of it being a one-armed farmer as old as her grandfather.

She should have seen Sawyer coming. It was her Irish luck, the same streak that started at birth. But no honeyed voiced, blued eyed man was going to wreck her chances for a hero. Not even on an island where she carried the badge.

It was almost full dark when they emerged to the beach. It had taken less time than she thought.

"Thanks, Sayid," she put a hand on his free forearm. She could feel muscle with a light touch. "Maybe an escort wasn't a bad idea after all."

His eyes betrayed his weariness as his lips curled. "My masculine spirits have been adequately propped, thank you, Kate." He hobbled slowly to his tent.

Kate crossed the camp to the containers that housed the fruit. She dropped to a knee, sliding the backpack to the ground. She unzipped it and pulled out a mango. She was about to drop it into the box when she noticed that it was empty.

"'Bout time you got back, Katie Mango-seed." Sawyer ambled in her direction. "We needed those for dinner a bit ago." He reached in her backpack, snagging a fruit. "Good thing I wasn't in the first seatin'

"Any sign of Claire?" Kate slowly transferred her harvest to the container. She was tired. Even fun work was tiring done long enough.

"Same as yesterday." Sawyer dug his nail into the thick skin and began to peel, bits of the mango coming with it. "Tad stringy. Try a different tree tomorrow."

"Is Locke back yet?" She stood. Others were heading towards them. If everyone took some, there'd be none for breakfast.

"Nope." Juice ran down his chin. "It wouldn't upset me a bit if ol' baldy was late 'cause he was draggin' home a nice, big boar. Since Ghandi – "

"Sanjay," corrected Kate picturing the tall Indian man. She pulled a mango into her hand, and moved away from the survivors crowding the produce, Sawyer drifting with her towards the signal fire.

"Proved himself useful doin' that dryin' thing for salt, boar's taken a flavorful turn. Two nights without it, a man starts to know he's hungry."

"What about fish?"

"The fish ain't so bad with that banana leaf thing whatshis name came up with. Especially after Chefy boy added coconut milk."

"Lance. Was there fish?"

"No fish. Reverend Sun's been on the Claire hunt."

"You know, Sawyer," Kate crossed her arms over her chest. "You could – "

"Freckles, I don't fish and I don't hunt," the southerner cut her off. "And at this point, all those people on the Claire Quest everyday are wastin' their time. She ain't nowhere near this camp and no one has the stones to go out further than a day trip."

Kate sighed. She hated it when he made sense. "It just seems wrong not to look for her."

Sawyer tossed the mango pit into the fire. "Wrong is people trampin' around and not lookin' out for their next meal. You feel like doin' all the providin' for them – " he jerked his thumb towards the knot of tents "So they can feel nice and righteous about lookin' for a pregnant girl?"

"That's a pretty cold way of looking at it." The firelight picked up the gold in his hair, she noticed unwillingly.

Sawyer shrugged. "Can't help myself. I'm a realist, sweetheart."

"Realist, huh? So I'll see you picking fruit tomorrow." Kate snapped and strode to her shelter.

She considered tossing the empty backpack to the ground and just going to bed, but experience taught her too well that bugs loved having food delivered more than people. No matter how carefully she loaded the bag, the fruit on the bottom got bruised, usually oozing juice. She did not care to repeat finding the bag's bottom covered with crawling bugs so Kate pulled off her shoes and socks, tossed them near her bedding, and walked to the shoreline.

She dipped the bag into the waves, like she did after every harvest. Holding the bag by the bottom, she relished the cold water on her toes, her ankles. She undoubtedly missed Jack's afternoon visit, she mused, gazing out the path of moonlight on the water. No one liked traipsing through the jungle after dark, opting to bunk down and wait it out if caught out. And that was before Claire's abduction. So she didn't just miss him. Her lips twisted into a wry smile as the thought but she did miss him crossed her mind.

She turned and trudged back to her tent, hanging the pack upside down on the large stick she had pounded into the sand near her tent. She lowered her onto the bed and looked out to the signal fire.

She'd still put her money on being able to outrun Ethan. Running was her talent.

At times to her detriment.

end chp 1

11


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: _I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I own any rights to the television show "Lost". They were created by JJ Abrams and Damon Lindelof and they belong to them, Touchstone, and ABC. _

_Great thanks to my betas, MrsTater and WhoKnowsWhy. I would have abandoned this beyond this point without their help and encouragement. _

**Chapter 2**

Jack was at the fire with Sayid when Kate emerged from her tent the next morning. She stretched slowly, making a show of ignoring them. She walked to the water line, letting the waves churn around her ankles, pushing and pulling with force. The water was cold and murky, as if reflecting the malaise that infected the camp since Claire's abduction.

She sighed, smoothing her hair and pulling it back with an elastic band. She must have the tides mixed up, she mused, wrinkling her forehead. The water seemed close for low tide. Kate turned, and made her way with slow cat grace to the two men.

Sayid was feeding the fire, listening to Jack. Obviously, the conversation was not an easy one. Both men's faces were tight. By the set of Sayid's chin, she'd hazard the guess that they were discussing the French woman. Jack's compressed lips indicated he was having no more success than she had.

She looked around for Sayid's walking stick. It wasn't there.

"Morning, Kate," greeted Jack as she drew near. "Hope you hit the takeout window. The cupboard is bare again this morning."

"Locke and Boone didn't get back until late last night," reported Sayid, clearly much more at ease with this subject. "There's no sign of a successful hunt."

"I don't miss the meat so much as the fruit not lasting," said Kate with a rueful look.

At this moment, she also missed a cup of coffee. It was this time of day that she most missed civilization. She could live without many things but the lack of a morning beverage on a daily basis bothered her. Water just wasn't the same and with everyone eating the fruit, there was no juice. If nothing else, it was something to wrap the fingers around and hold during the morning wake up.

"I talked," Jack stopped, gave his head a small shake. "To Jin this morning. He's fishing today. The plan is to take Charlie and Hurley with him. It will take some time but there'll be more fish soon. Plus it'll be good for Charlie – fill his time."

Jack took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, his eyes following the flames in front of him. "I hate to say it." The closely shorn man swallowed, looking out to the waves. What he was about to say was obviously not palatable to him. "It's time we admit we can't find Claire." He glanced at them. "Not the way we're going about it. Not without some outside help." He settled his glance on Sayid, frowning.

"If Locke could venture out farther," began Sayid, turning from Jack's gaze.

"No one tells Locke what to do," sighed Jack, sinking onto the sand to sit. "I don't know if he and Boone are hunting for boar or for Claire. He's never around to ask."

"We could ask Boone's sister," suggested Sayid. "It's possible that he's telling her what he and Locke are doing."

"Does it matter what they're doing?" asked Kate, dropping next to Jack, wrapping her arms around her knees. "The outcome is the same. No boar."

"It matters," said Sayid, lowering himself gingerly. "If Locke is hunting boar and not finding any, then sending out more people to find boar is a waste of time. If he is instead searching for Claire, that is not the case."

"Are you saying more people should hunt?" she said slowly. "Or you found some hunters?"

"I am saying that it could not hurt for more of us than Locke to be able to provide meat."

Kate said slowly, "He's on to something there, Jack. Why didn't we didn't think of it sooner?"

"We didn't think of it because Locke was doing fine by himself," said Jack with some gruffness. "And I don't think now is the time for him to teach -"

"Kate can track," offered Sayid with a rush.

She turned her head to look at him with surprise. She hadn't seen this one coming. Why she hadn't, she would consider at another time. Right now, she was very interested in Sayid's idea.

"The last time she went out looking for boar," said Jack, working for a neutral tone and failing, "Michael came back injured. And we don't exactly have hunting gear."

"Locke uses a variety of means to capture the boar. We track the animal so we can determine the area to build a snare or a trap, and then construct it."

"**We **track? You're an experienced tracker?" The sarcasm was heavy.

"No, he isn't," said Kate, annoyed that she was being excluded from the decision making process. She decided that right now that Jack irritated her more than Sayid. "But I can teach him."

"You don't have the time either. You're bringing in the biggest portion of fruit," argued Jack.

"Fine, I'll save time. I'll track this morning and pick fruit this afternoon. Better yet, I'll just track and," she paused and looked directly at Jack "Someone else can pick the fruit."

"You know how I feel about anyone going out there alone, Kate," Jack stated flatly.

"I'll go with her. She'll not be alone." Sayid jumped back into the debate.

"Five minutes ago you couldn't walk well enough to take me to the French woman. Now you're able to hike through the jungle to search for boar with Kate." Jack said, heat creeping into his voice.

"He walked well enough yesterday. Remember you sent him after me?" replied Kate in kind.

"I can walk, just not quickly or very far. I don't need to walk quickly or very far to learn how to track," said Sayid without rancor.

Jack's scowled deepened. "So how about we track Rousseau?"

Sayid disregarded the remark completely. "It makes perfect sense for me to accompany Kate. I cannot climb just yet so as a gatherer I rank very poorly. If I'm to contribute to the camp-"

"But you'd slow her down if you come across Ethan," Jack looked determined.

"If it's a matter of speed," Kate saw an opportunity and dove in. "Then I'm better off alone."

"Kate, it's not a good idea to go into the jungle by yourself!" Jack glared at her. "We don't know who – or what - is out there!"

"Then it's not a matter of speed, and my presence will not endanger Kate," Sayid beat her to the punch, a touch of smugness in his tone. He dropped it as he continued, "Jack, why is Jin teaching Hurley and Charlie a good idea, and Kate teaching me not?"

Jack exhalded loudly and glanced again to the waves. Why was he fighting the idea? He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "You're not hunting."

Sayid said nothing.

"Sayid, you're not hunting. This is to find the boar. Then we get Locke involved."

Sayid nodded impatiently, his chin back to stubborn at Jack's words. "Yes. Then we can learn –"

"One step at a time, Sayid," Jack said with finality. "Just how many people do you want out there tossing knives around? If she's going to -"

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here," Kate cut in. Enough was enough.

"Who thinks you're not here, Freckles?" Sawyer sauntered into the conversation and next to Kate. "I can see you plain as day."

The discussion stopped. The seated men exchanged glances, then found the fire fascinating.

"You're up early," said Kate, squinting up at him.

"'Member our plans from last night? For you to take me," he said, his eyes sliding to Jack. He waited a beat. Two. "Fruit pickin' today."

She silently fumed. First, she was without a vote, and now she was a tool for Sawyer to bludgeon Jack. Men were asses.

This was a not a revelation to her. She was no Shannon, a pampered rich girl ignorant of reality, coasting on her looks and daddy's money. What was new was that Kate didn't feel any control over any piece of this situation. Jack and Sawyer would snip at one another, seemingly with her as the reward, while ignoring her entirely. She had played men against each other before and never was disregarded like this. But before she had picked the men to play and she had picked the games. Neither was true here.

Well, she had chosen Jack. Or rather, he selected her by dint of being at hand when he needed help. That something as horrible as the crash brought Jack Shepard into her life continued to amaze her. His sense of self, his confidence combined with his clean, good looks drew her like a magnet. Decency and honesty radiated from his eyes and suddenly, she remembered that was how she wanted to be, how she started out.

How she could be: decent, honest. Here on the island.

There had been no sign of the marshal in her wanderings after the crash before she stumbled across Jack. She spotted a face or two of those seated near them. No Mars. She didn't wish the officer dead. She didn't wish him alive. She wished him not.

If Mars were not, it would mean freedom. Again. She had hope. Then she saw Jack tending the marshal and it took a direct hit. Yet, she couldn't wish Mars dead. She couldn't reconcile that and wanting Jack never to hear Mars' voice either. If the rescue came soon and Mars lived, it wouldn't matter what Jack knew. If they were stranded and Mars died, this was her chance to make a strong impression: pretty and good. She knew she was making no sense as she scrambled onto hope's back; she would ride it out.

She hoped, so she looked into Jack's eyes and allowed the real Kate out. She flirted like she would, if she could be who she really was. She helped others, really helped, because she wanted to, not because there was an angle to play, a shortcoming to distract from, a hole in her to fill. She ran back for Jack when they encountered the Thing because it's what good people did and she was good people. There was no calculation there. There was hope. It practically made her giddy. That giddiness should have tipped her off.

After Mars shared mug shots, Jack looked at her differently. Yet, Jack didn't denounce her, instead made a pretty speech about starting over, and they pretended they did. Except they didn't. At times, she felt that she was Jack Shepard's personal salvation project, and at others, that she was simply an annoyance.

A fractured piece of the past lay on the sand between her and Jack, and Sawyer slid in. But it wasn't about her. Sawyer, bruised by poor aim and popular disapproval, saw that she was a weakness of Jack's and went after it.

She had no idea how to fix any of it. She couldn't run. There was nowhere to go.

She was still helpful, still good, except now it wasn't without thought. She was back to watching every move, every word. When Jack left the beach for the caves, she decided that a daily bit of break from him would have to be a good thing. Let him miss her, give her a breathing space. Besides, with Mars dead, the driving force behind her arrest was gone. The idea of digging in at the caves felt of capitulation. She wanted to be with Jack but it was too high of a cost if it meant not believing in rescue. She didn't give up. No matter who she was, she didn't give up.

Kate hadn't considered that proximity to Sawyer would grow into a bit of a temptation. He was amusing, aggravating, and too damn good looking for her own good. She told herself that she wouldn't be used to hurt Jack. That she knew what she wanted and could handle it.

Except she couldn't, because it wasn't completely about her.

She felt Sayid's gaze on her. Her eyes briefly met his brown ones. That she wasn't in total control of the circumstances didn't have to mean that she had to sit on the sideline and watch.

"Sawyer," she said. "There's been a change of plans."

"Yeah?" Now he peered through shaggy bangs at her. "Look at me, up bright 'n early and all unappreciated."

From the corner of her eye she could see Jack opening his mouth. She snorted and said quickly "You can come with us."

"Us, Freckles? You didn't say nothin' about no double date."

She felt all eyes on her now. Never when you wanted it, she fumed internally. "A good ol' boy like you should know how to hunt."

"You're not hunting, Kate." Jack's voice was calm, in charge. He was brooking no arguments.

"You talkin' calling 'souey souey'? Or do you mean real huntin'?" Sawyer was clearly entertaining himself.

"And the first step of hunting- "

"Hey, I shot the bear," Sawyer grinned widely, his shoulders back with pride.

"Is tracking. You're getting your first hunting lesson today"

"Well now," he drew out the words. "And just who's the 'we' in this edg-u-cational endeavor?" Sawyer looked around the fire at the three faces.

"Me, you, and Sayid."

"Not the doc? Gonna practice on me first, then give him lessons?" Sawyer slid a lidded glance her way.

She wanted to punch him. Sawyer was having no trouble with consistency.

Jack climbed to his feet, brushing the sand away. Of course Sayid followed the lead. Kate ruled out being the only one looking up and rose gracefully. "Jack's – "

"I'm coming with you." Jack smiled tightly. "Sayid's right, Kate: the more of us with survival skills, the better."

She bit her tongue and smiled. "Good. Then let's get this show on the road."

A small list of needed equipment was quickly compiled – water, bags to hold fruit – and they disbanded to collect the items. Kate was pleasantly surprised that Jack supported her instruction to Sayid to bring his staff. She disregarded Sawyer's smug grin as Sayid's protest was overridden.

With that surprise in mind, Kate opted to walk to the caves with Jack. He needed to retrieve his backpack, and they were fetching some water for the beach camp while Sayid and Sawyer scrounged bags. She hadn't been alone with Jack since the night that they brought Charlie back. She liked the idea of just the two of them without a crisis at hand.

The possibility, she told herself that it wasn't a wish, that they would enjoy a good conversation died as Jack grunted in response at her second conversational gambit. She abandoned the effort. This was Dr. Jack, direct cause of pregnant women kidnappings, that she was dealing with today. He didn't want to discuss the difference she noted in the tide, or how Charlie was doing.

She concentrated instead on how she would instruct the men. Funny, she thought the stuff the old man taught her was useless, and here she was, about to impart it to others. Maybe she should see if she couldn't make Sawyer cry by dragging him around the jungle for eight hours.

Sullivan pounced on them as they entered the settlement, yanking Jack's arm to lead the doctor towards the infirmary. Kate smiled as Sullivan described in loud and vivid detail the red splotches that were growing on his left ankle just at the hairline and fast approaching the top of his foot. She chuckled lowly at the doctor's blatant eye roll as she headed to the waterfall.

She looked around, smiling and nodding at people as they passed. She wondered when some of them had been to the beach last. Most seemed to drift back and forth between the camps, or had until recently. She stopped, bottle half full.

The survivors had another significant mark to add to their common timeline. Their conversations were peppered with these events: after the crash; before Locke hunted boar; before Jack found water; after there were two camps. Now there was after Claire's abduction.

Now it would be said people were afraid to walk the path to the beach after Claire's abduction; that Jack acted like the lame duck mayor of the island after Claire's abduction. The second time of hunger would be after Claire's abduction.

They hadn't been here long enough to have so many benchmarks, and that wasn't including those that were repressed, almost as a group: before the marshal died; before they burned the fuselage; before the Thing showed up.

She had her own private nicks: after the pilot was pulled from the plane; after they heard the French transmission; after Jack found her mug shot; after Sawyer was tortured; after the kiss. She wondered if she asked, would Jack would tell her his?

Perhaps this would be a good mark. Possibly, they could salt some fish, some boar; with more people working at the tasks, there should be enough to save. Maybe they could salt some fruit – the plantains, the mangoes – hadn't she gotten bored enough once to read an Indian cookbook?

Or was it Japanese? At any rate, it could become after there was always enough to eat.

She finished filling the water bottles and looked for Jack.

He was still dealing with the man with rashes. Jack's guilt for not listening to Claire was providing Sullivan more of the doctor's time than the hypochondriac deserved.

Kate plopped onto a rock and gazed about. She was considering heading for the guava grove to the west of the caves when the doctor waved her to him.

"I'm going to be a little longer," said Jack, rubbing the back of his neck. "Why don't you get some fruit while you're waiting?"

She took him at his word: she palmed three mangoes and two papayas, and headed for the beach.

The beach was more active at this time of day: Shannon was sun bathing, Tracey and Steve were ambling south with what Kate hoped were empty packs to be filled with fruit. There was no sign of Sayid or Sawyer.

She deposited most of the water bottles in the common area and walked to Sayid's shelter. The flap was up – the Arab was home and open for business.

He looked up from his makeshift desk as she rounded the corner. "Hey," she said, tossing him a mango. "You ready?"

Sayid put the fruit down and carefully began to roll large sheets of paper. "Yes. I was taking advantage of the time."

"What are those?" Kate stepped closer.

"Some documents that I ….. liberated from Rousseau. I was hoping that they were maps of the island, however I cannot make sense of them."

"What's that writing on the side there?" She pointed to an unrolled corner.

"I believe it's French. Unfortunately, I cannot translate written French either. I had hoped for some commonality between the languages I know."

"What about those numbers? Numbers aren't in French." Kate offered a smile. She made a mental note to mention the maps to Jack.

He glanced up at her and finished rolling. He opened a small trunk and placed the scroll inside. "I've studied them several times since my return. I'm not making any progress. Perhaps some time away will allow me to view them in a fresh light."

"And if not, you can ask Shannon for help with the French." She enjoyed teasing him, and considered the eye roll over Shannon's behavior their own private joke. Besides, he was so serious all of the time. When his sense of humor was struck, the sly, heavy lidded look that accompanied either the obviously repressed smile or the clever twisting of lips made all efforts worthwhile.

"I have been considering that. Despite all the noise at the time, she was able to translate the transmission. That could not have been easy." Sayid stood and joined her on the sand. "Thank you for the mango."

She hated it when her mark was missed.

"Where's Sawyer?" She turned and looked up and down the beach. "Go ahead and eat that if you want. I have more. And don't forget your walking stick. And your knife." Kate tilted her head towards his dark curls, her eyes meeting his. "It's for cutting a coupla sticks. I didn't want to mention it in front of Jack. He wouldn't listen why we need them, just go off about knives and other things we shouldn't be playing with."

Sayid pulled the straps of the backpack over his shoulders. "He is feeling a great deal of responsibility for Claire's disappearance."

"There's Sawyer." She sighed. What was going on? Sayid was in official no fun mode. She started in the direction of tall blonde-haired man at his shelter.

"Where is Jack?" asked Sayid, resting the staff on his left shoulder, trailing in her wake.

"He's about ten minutes behind me. Sullivan nabbed him when we got there," laughed Kate.

"Then you came back to the beach alone?" She couldn't tell if he sounded amused.

"He wasn't ready and I was."

"And you can run fast." There was definitely amusement there.

Kate smiled over her shoulder, looking up at him from lowered lids. "When I want to." She turned her attention forward. The smile faded as a question occurred to her. "Can I ask you something, Sayid?"

"Very rarely is that followed by a pleasant query."

"This isn't that bad. Why were you so insistent this morning on this tracking adventure?" She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Up to this point, the things you've done go more towards getting off the island. There's no way to track yourself home."

"If you're asking me if I've given up hope of rescue, the answer is no."

She wrinkled her nose, pondering that. "So it has nothing to do with accepting this?"

"I accept that I'm on this island. I am not resigned to staying here."

"Where does this fit?"

"The better equipped I am to survive, the higher the probability that I will. That improves the probability of rescue." He smiled at the last.

"Hey teach," hailed Sawyer, dropping the side of the tarp, effectively shutting his door. "You're late for class."

"Hey! Hey! Katie!" A shouting voice broke past the sound of the waves.

She and Sayid turned almost as one to look. A large, fair-haired man headed down the beach towards them from the direction of the jungle.

"Damn, it's Arzt," muttered Kate. She considered ignoring him. The caves had Sullivan; they had Arzt. Sullivan complained of aches, pains, rashes; ten minutes of Arzt created aches, pains, rashes on the listener's skin.

At least she could use the Jack sanctioned task to stop the science teacher from wasting too much of their time. She was suffering no guilt, so there was no need to listen for extended periods to anyone.

The man, face flaming from exertion, called, "Hold up there!"

Sawyer swore quietly and ducked back into his shelter. Kate grabbed Sayid's arm. "Oh no. You're not going anywhere."

"No fair, Freckles. Give the poor guy a limpin' start," came Sawyer's voice from behind the flap.

"Sawyer, get out here!" she commanded lowly, laughter in her voice.

"Katie," Arzt arrived, huffing. His bushy eyebrows were mesmerizing as they moved in time with his chest. "Jack said to tell you that he can't make it."

"Is everything okay?" She narrowed her eyes.

"That little guy – the musician - cut his hand. On a shell or something while he was fishing and Jack's tied up with that," he explained.

"Oh. Okay, fine. Thanks, Arzt." Kate turned to the tarp. "C'mon, Sawyer, let's go."

"Wait! He said for you to take me in his place. On your little lesson for the day."

A guffaw erupted from the inside of the shelter.

"I'm glad that you find that so funny," Arzt addressed the shelter. "I was a scout as a boy. For me, this will be a refresher course."

Sawyer stepped into the sun. He cocked his head. "Seems to me, ya pass an era, ya need more 'n refresher course."

Kate rolled her eyes, pressing her lips together. The day just had gotten longer. Damn Jack anyway. Maybe this was payback for leaving without him. Alone. "Jack told you the plan? Track then fruit?"

Arzt nodded. "Not exactly a challenging curriculum." He frowned, spotting Sayid. "Unless we add points for the handicapped. Won't you slow us down?"

Sayid blinked. It was the first time that Kate saw him nonplussed.

"Hey Davy Crockett," Sawyer drawled. "If Hop-a-long Omar here don't go with us, there ain't nothin' big enough on this island to chase me into the jungle with you. And I'm willin' to bet she ain't gonna teach to a class a one."

Arzt opened his mouth to respond.

There's my cue, Kate noted with mental sigh. "Let's get going, shall we?" She started heading north, the men falling in line behind her.

Chp 2 end


	3. Chapter 3

_A big big thank you to whoknowswhy for having a copy of this chapter. _

**chapter 3**

Kate knew that they created an interesting trail as they paraded away from camp: Arzt stayed just behind, off her left shoulder; Sawyer drifted between walking by her side and dropping back to pepper Sayid with various 'limpy' or 'gimpy' remarks, while Sayid made a show of using the staff. She didn't hear any words exchanged between Sawyer and Arzt during Sawyer's travels, but she didn't expect him to: Sawyer wasn't one for niceties. Unless they amused him.

He was not amused when, after walking for about an hour, she told them the first lesson involved finding a tracking stick. Or, she suspected, it was because Sayid was exempt from the task, his staff-now-tracking-stick resting on his leg, leaving the southerner to deal with Arzt one on one.

Kate explained the need for tracking sticks: how when learning to track, the stick was a useful tool in training the eye. She briefly considered sharing the memory of the time her father disappeared over rocky terrain when berry picking in a new woods. He left her with a half-filled bucket of blueberries, the warning to look out for bears, and the knowledge of the implement from the previous day's lesson. Hours later she used the three-foot branch to beat on the fender of the car when she finally tracked it to its new parking spot, about fifty yards from the original.

She opted to keep the recollection to herself. Having Arzt along meant a lecture at the drop of a topic. She wasn't going to provide him with one about how people today didn't respect other's property, or that kids were lazy and soft.

Instead, she instructed Sawyer and Arzt to find branches with the proper dimensions. She agreed with Sawyer that maybe she should have mentioned the need this morning when they were near the signal fire woodpile, but she didn't and here they were. She pointed to the tree line: they would find their sticks there.

She was smart enough not to demonstrate the approximate size with her hand when Sawyer demanded just how the hell he was supposed to know when he came across the right sized branch, he wasn't supplied with a damn ruler. She waved her hand at Sayid's cane and told them it should be smaller, but not by much.

Sawyer stalked across the beach, Arzt struggling to keep up. Kate and Sayid followed at a more leisurely pace until they reached shade. She sat easily, curling her arms around her knees. Sayid sank awkwardly next to her, trying not to favor the injured leg.

"How's the leg?" asked Kate after a bit, as Sayid tucked his water bottle back into his backpack. "You seem to be favoring it a bit."

He slid a sideways glance with a small sly, smile. "I am striving to meet Arzt's lower expectations."

"Okay," Kate drew out the word. She smiled at him. "That's something new for you. What's next?"

"At this moment, I'm effectively avoiding Arzt."

The sound of angry male voices erupted from the growth behind them.

"It sounds like Sawyer isn't avoiding Arzt." Kate twisted at the waist, looking into the growth. "Hey, play nice!"

"Dammit, Freckles," sputtered Sawyer, exploding onto the beach, stout stick in hand. "I didn't sign up for this kind of boor." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "We don't need to hunt for him – there he is!"

Arzt was fast on his heels. "My point is –"

"Buddy, the only point you have is on that head of yours," snarled Sawyer. "Freckles –"

"That's considerably bigger than three quarters inch," the science teacher plowed on. "She didn't say club. She said stick."

Kate sighed and climbed to her feet. "It doesn't matter. Lemme see." She eyeballed the bough that Sawyer presented and shrugged. "It's a bit on the big side but it'll work. Lemme see yours, Arzt."

The large man held the branch horizontally at chest level.

Kate sighed. It figured. "Pretty much perfect," she said, with grudging admiration.

"Of course it is," stated Arzt smugly. "I have an innate spatial ability. I can recognize dimensions that would amaze you. And I have 20/20 vision. I would make a great eye witness in robberies and car crashes."

"Well ain't you the star pupil?" sneered Sawyer. "Teach, give 'im a star, give 'im a kiss. Just get him to shut the hell up!"

"C'mon," said Kate. "Let's get going." She started back down the beach to the waves.

Sayid rose, staff at his side.

"Hey, mine is smaller than Mohammed's!" pointed Sawyer. He stopped, shaking his head. "I can't believe I said that."

"Me neither," giggled Kate. She tried to stop, biting her lip. Instead, she started laughing harder, her nose wrinkling in mirth.

The shaggy haired man glared at her, then rolled his eyes. "Oh hell," he began to laugh.

Sayid looked questioningly back and forth between the amused couple. He seemed to be replaying the conversation. His eyebrows rose as a look of comprehension crossed his face. A small smile tugged at his lips, then he broke into a quiet chuckle.

"Don't encourage him," scolded Arzt. "This is very puerile humor. Katie, I'm surprised at you. Women should not encourage men like him. You yell your head off about sexual harassment but you don't mean it. Let me make a vulgar remark like that and see what you do."

"Remember," Sawyer managed to utter between gasps for air. "His is the perfect size."

She sucked her lips into her mouth, trying to collect herself. It wasn't that funny. She couldn't look at Sawyer. She couldn't look at Sayid. She sure as hell couldn't look at Arzt. Not now. She peeked through her lashes at Sawyer anyway and burst into fresh gales of laughter.

"Them I understand," Arzt was now glaring at Sayid. "But I expect greater decorum from an ex-military man."

Sayid shrugged lightly. "Then you expect too much."

Kate lowered her gaze, biting the inside of her cheek. The giggles began to pass. Just in time. Her stomach hurt. "Okay," she cleared her throat. "Let's go. We got more to do."

Once again, the men trailed Kate as she walked to the shoreline. She tossed her bag to the dry sand as they reached the hard packed, damp beach. "Okay, take off your shoes."

"Our shoes," said Sawyer. "Teach, ya wanna head back there for a private lesson, just say so." He leered exaggeratedly.

"See!" Arzt chided. "You have no one but yourself to blame for this!"

"Your shoes, Sawyer," she rolled her eyes, her mouth tight. "Just your shoes."

Sayid eased carefully onto the sand and began to untie his footwear. He stood barefoot, staff next to the knapsack and discarded sneakers, and looked expectantly at Kate.

Kate yanked her hiking boots from her feet and lobbed them next to her bag. "C'mon you two. Shoes off."

"Just why is it so damn important for me to be barefoot, Freckles?" demanded Sawyer. "You got Hop-A-Long in his piggies over there. Ain't that enough?"

"Arzt?" Kate turned to the older man.

"Not gonna do it, sweetheart." Arzt crossed his arms over his chest. "I am well acquainted with my own bare foot. Are you aware that a bare foot is an invitation for fungus? I'm not going back with ringworm to make you happy."

She scowled between the two men. Neither lifted a foot; Sawyer's hands on his hips.

"Fine. Let's go, Sayid." Kate began to march across the wet sand, trying to enjoy the feel of the grainy clumps between her toes. Normally, that was a good thing. Sayid limped behind her. She slowed until he caught up and walked beside her.

"Where are we going?" asked Sayid.

"Nowhere. This is so you can get to know your own foot."

"So I can track myself home barefoot?"

"So you don't track yourself into circles," retorted Kate. Was Sawyer becoming contagious? The last thing that she needed right now was a Southern Iraqi. "And if others would cooperate, it gives you some idea how different feet can be. Next, we'll do the same with shoes. Maybe Arzt'll participate then."

"Alright, alright, wait up," Sawyer huffed as he joined them. "No fair leavin' me with Mr-Big-Bag-O-Wind."

She stopped walking, glancing at Sawyer with annoyance. "I didn't think you were coming."

"Well, I did. And shoe free. Now what?"

"Look behind you," she instructed, expanding her gaze to include Sayid. "Can you tell your prints apart?"

Sayid and Sawyer scanned the wet sand behind them, retracing their trail slowly. They directed their attention to their toes, each other's, then Kate's.

"These are mine. Those are yours, Kate," Sayid pointed to the sand. "Those must be Sawyer's."

"No, Sayid, you can't do it by knowing who was standing next to who." Why did everyone want a shortcut? And how come that didn't occur to her? "Look at the prints!"

"Hell Freckles, he don't got six toes and a flat foot and I still see they're different. Does this make me a natural?"

Sayid was studying the sand, his eyes narrow with concentration. "You have a large foot, Sawyer."

"Ya know what they say about a man's hands and feet," smirked Sawyer.

Kate bit a smile back. "That they can reflect his IQ?" she smiled prettily and batted her eyelashes at him.

Sawyer eased a lazy smile across his mouth, "Just gotta be smart enough to know how to please a woman." He ducked his head, then looked up through his bangs.

A rush of heat swept through her. Just one more kiss. That would be all it would take. One more kiss. Then he could fade back into the stereotype he liked to play. "So do you think you could pick your own footprint out?" quizzed Kate, breaking eye contact and swinging her attention to Sayid.

Sayid frowned, dropping onto a knee for a closer look. He lifted his head, and nodded at Kate. "Yes. Yours is narrow and long. Sawyer is long and wider. My toes curl under, making a distinctive mark."

"And MUCH smaller than mine," Sawyer grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "Don't worry, Mohammad, the waves'll wash 'em away."

She grinned in spite of herself, then pulled it from her face. "I think you got the point. Now, let's put on shoes and try it again," ordered Kate.

"Girl, I'm beginnin' to think this ain't nothin' but a way for you to boss us all over the island," said Sawyer. "You couldn'ta just told me to bring the damned things 'fore I trotted all the way down here?"

"You weren't cooperating," replied Kate primly.

"Omar was and ya didn't tell him."

Kate sighed. "Okay, Sawyer, I'm bad at organizing. Go get your damned shoes." She thought a moment, "And bring along your stick."

The three returned for their shoes. While they put them on, she described the meaning of stride, and how to measure it with the stick. The old man had taught her to measure from heel to heel, notching the distance, so this was how she coached the three men. She explained that from there, it was possible to determine where the next track should fall by putting the measure on the ground. It wasn't so important here in the sand, she acknowledged to Arzt's remark, but when the tracks weren't so clear, it could mean the difference between finding the prey and losing the trail.

With shoes on, sticks in hands, and Arzt part of the group, they walked the opposite direction as the last. Kate brought to their attention the deeper and generally clearer impact that their heels were making, waiting for them to notch their sticks with the foot size, then stride lengths before weaving them in and out the surf. She stood back and let her students practice finding the next set of prints where the waves cleared the sand.

She next led them from the wet sand to the dry, in and out of the surf, up and down the beach. There was a lot of protesting at this, but she insisted on the repetition. It would drive the concepts home, she told them, ignoring Sawyer's comment that she was the type of woman who needed to let the man drive on occasion. First, they followed their own tracks and when this proved to be too easy, she assigned Arzt to track Sayid, Sawyer to Arzt, and Sayid to Sawyer.

It was amusing to sit on the sand and watch the three men. There were great hoots of laughter from Sawyer when Arzt unwittingly followed his own tracks and bumped into Sayid. The Iraqi, one knee in the wet sand, a hand splayed close for balance, was intently studying a print, and tumbled clownlike to the ground as Arzt struck. His glower was short lived as he joined Sawyer's laughter. Arzt stood to the side, frowning.

It was too early for styles to emerge, but her money was on Sayid as the next Locke. Sawyer might contribute now and again – he seemed to have an aptitude she was sure he'd claim was growing up southern, and Arzt would talk up his adventures in tracking.

Kate glanced at her watch, and decided they had spent enough nonproductive time today. Now to sing for their supper. Picking fruit could provide the added bonus of demonstrating the difference of tracking in firm wet, sand and the dry dirt of the jungle. Tomorrow was soon enough for how to read plants and terrain. It was getting late, they were clearly getting punchy.

She climbed to her feet, calling for the end of the lesson. No one asked for extra time; all seemed willing, if not eager, to stop for the day.

They headed back towards camp, venturing into the jungle about halfway home. No one seemed too enthusiastic about finding his own prints off the sand, so she let it go. Tomorrow was soon enough.

There was a papaya copse not too far in, Kate recalled, and given the distance from the encampment, wasn't a common destination for harvesters. She lead the men through the high growth, resisting the memory of following the old man, wanting to go home but knowing there was more to be done.

Sawyer complained of hunger when they first entered the grove, so they plucked a few low hanging, bright yellow papaya to eat. They sat in a semi-circle, peeling their lunch.

"You know, these are better tasting than the Mexican variety," announced Arzt, talking through a bite of the juicy flesh.

"Mexican?" Sawyer paused, mid bite. "Just how the hell do you know these are…. what are these if they ain't Mexican?"

"Hawaiian," said Arzt with certainty. "Mexican papaya isn't as sweet as Hawaiian. Plus the Mexican variety weighs considerably more than Hawaiian. Up to ten pounds, to be precise."

"Can't have ya bein' any less than that," muttered Sawyer, sharing an exasperated look with Kate.

"So you believe that we are near Hawaii?" asked Sayid, scraping the fruit from the peel with his knife.

"I didn't say that. I said that there are two varieties of papaya." Arzt shook his head. "Papayas are really herbs. They're one of the few plants that bear fruit their first year." He gestured towards the foliage surrounding them. "The seeds can be used as a vermifuge. That's good for us to know here."

"Both or just Hawaiian?" Sayid couldn't seem to help himself. Sawyer glowered at the dark man.

"What's a vermifuge?" asked Kate. Oh great, now she was infected with questions. She avoided looking at Sawyer; she didn't need to see his eyes to feel the heat of his look.

"A vermifuge, little lady, is a drug that expels parasitic worms. Both varieties have the properties." Arzt was in full lecture mode. "Papaya has been around as long as history has been recorded. They're great sources of vitamin C." He pointed to the discarded skins. "Lots of vitamin A in those."

"It feels like we've been talkin' about papaya since history started recordin'," said Sawyer. "Does anyone sit by you durin' meal times in the school cafeteria? On the off chance the answer's yes, try not discussin' the nutritional makeup of the food."

Arzt drew back his shoulders and looked coldly down his nose. "And I should listen to your social advice because people are just lining up to spend time with you." He waited a moment, savoring the audience. "When food is as limited as it is here, it's important to know what fruit provides what nutrients to avoid vitamin deficiencies." He took another bite, then after chewing added slyly, "Unless you happen to be hoarding a multi-vitamin supply that you should be sharing with others."

Kate sighed. Was this how Jack felt? Dealing with clashing personalities got old fast. "That's why we're out here. I'd like to get boar back on the menu."

Arzt turned to Sayid, "I'm surprised that you're not out with the Korean fishing instead. Isn't boar off the Muslim menu?"

"That is the third conclusion today you've drawn concerning me," said Sayid. "This surprises me since you are an educated man."

"C'mon," Kate stood, brushing the sand from her jeans. It proved the day was long if Sayid was getting into it with Arzt. "Let's pick dinner."

She shimmied up the most promising looking trunk while the men stayed on the ground. Conversation was light to none. Everybody worked steadily, focused on filling his or her bags. It was late afternoon when hands were tired and sticky, carrying capacity attained, and consensus reached that they had done their share for the camp for the day.

The trudge back felt much longer, even if it was half the distance. Kate sighed, feeling the weight of her bag on her shoulders. Maybe it was because the sun was in the eyes: she kept her eyes down and watched her feet. Maybe it was because the water was gone, and she was trying to ignore her thirst.

At this point, it would be great to know that when they reached camp, dinner would be on the spit, and the mangos and kiwi sliced. The probable reality of having to peel their dinner by torchlight didn't lighten her step. It was almost discouraging to consider that they would be heading back out in the morning. She glanced around the men's faces in the darkening light. Their lack of conversation was as telling as Sayid's pronounced limp. It has been a long day and they were tired.

A delightful aroma was in the air as they approached the camp.

"Smells like somethin' other than papaya," announced Sawyer. "Maybe fish camp has a better teacher than boar camp."

Kate felt heat creep up the back of her neck. She wasn't exactly in the mood to be criticized again and this time unjustly. Sawyer knew their limitations – they weren't hunting yet. "Maybe the students are quicker to pick things up," she snapped.

"Lighten up, Billy Bob," said Arzt. "You learned more than you know today. Katie's doing a fine job."

She blinked. Oh no. Arzt was defending her. Now she noticed her legs aching.

"I'll be happy if they are sharing their class assignments," said Sayid, absently rubbing his healing thigh. "But I am not complaining to Jack about the work load. Nor the professor." He smiled wearily at Kate.

As they entered camp, Shannon jumped up from the sand and hurried over to them. "Did you see my brother out there?" Her voice was prickly, with a trace of worry just beneath its surface. She scanned their faces. She fell along side of Kate. "Or that freak date of his?"

Kate shook her head, smiling wearily, lips tight. "Sorry. I don't think we went out far enough to catch up with them. I take it they're not back yet?"

Shannon frowned, shaking her head. "No. But lucky for us, Steve and Tracey went crabbing and hit it big. There's fish tonight, too. Go figure Hurley as the fishing wizard of Craphole Island."

The tall blonde stopped, her lips twisted, hands tightly clasped, as she watched Kate and the men continue on to the food area.

Sayid dropped from the queue. "Shannon," Kate heard him say behind her. "Has Boone indicated if he and Locke are hunting?"

Kate shook her head. Sayid was wasting his time. Unless he wanted tanning tips. But he covered his bases better than Shannon's bikini covered her.

People were swarming around with fruit and fish. There was almost a festive air permeating the camp. The tight looks of the night before were gone. One night of plenty seemed to erase many fears.

"See, Sawyer, students," snipped Kate as she began to unload her portion. The smell of roasted fish wafted deliciously around her. Her stomach rumbled and her throat was dry. Despite the relief at the feast, she felt a foolish disappointment that there was no meat from her team. She frowned, and squelched it. She was told no hunting.

"See, Teach," snorted Sawyer. "Instructor." He turned his bag upside down and dumped the contents.

End chp 3


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4/6**

It was much cooler the next morning when Kate left her shelter. The shoreline seemed closer still, the waves slamming with such force that white plume was flung well beyond the damp sand. The sun had yet to break the horizon as she loaded her backpack with water bottles and fruit. So, she mused as she settled the pack on her shoulders, were the seasons changing here on the island? She hoped there were some cool weather clothes in the luggage reserves at the caves.

She looked up and down the beach, making note of its continual evolution. What had started out as definite spaces claimed for blankets after the crash that grew to haphazard shelters randomly scattered about the beach was now a tight stretch of tents and shanties, most within a stone's throw of one another. The perimeter was definitely smaller since Claire's abduction. Sawyer was now at the far northern edge of the camp; Kate's tent was now at the far southern edge.

She studied her tent: a simple and neat tarp and pole structure. It began as a small bit of tarp stretched between two small sticks, providing cover for her head. It now resembled a two-person tent; complete with a narrow vestibule for shoes and wet clothes. It was tall enough to sit up comfortably, and could sleep one who flopped in her sleep. Her eyes darted end to end of the tarp and she realized little could be discerned about her by viewing this space. It reflected her camping background and little else.

She frowned and narrowed her eyes, not pleased with this insight, and turned her attention to what she thought of as the frat house.

Initially it was a large tarp stretched over branches, forming only a canopy. It brought to mind a picnic shelter. A group of young men slept here, their blankets left in disarray, clothing scattered around the area at all times. The boys suffered when it rained with wind, and the numbers staying there fluctuated, though the size of piled garments did not. It now had sides, was co-ed, and its population stable. The blankets were hung neatly during the daylight hours and men's attire no longer adorned its property lines.

Kate started towards the northern end of camp, veering to Arzt's hut at the last minute. As she roused the high school teacher, she decided that his building resembled its resident: decent framework with materials awkwardly applied. The fabric was not completely secured to the poles and flapped in the wind. His clothes were stacked against an outside corner draped with plastic sheets, weighted down with heavy pieces of driftwood. No nameplate was necessary here.

The large man joined her, tying his ubiquitous bandana around his neck as he yawned. Having him with her when she awakened Sawyer was an instinctual move. She and Sawyer hadn't spoken last night after their snips at each other. She wasn't annoyed now, but on the chance the island trader was, it would be better to have Arzt to toss to the southern bear.

As they hiked to Sawyer's place, Kate noted with an ironic twist of her lips that Sawyer started out on the fringes of camp and he was there again, despite the earlier move deep into the camp. Like a hermit crab, he had climbed into someone else's shell, disregarding the population surrounding Jack's building, trading privacy for sturdiness. As people moved closer together, the structure was now the edge of camp. There was the air of a permanent flea market about it despite the lack of items piled or primitively painted signs. Perhaps it was the occasional uncomfortable looking person hovering near the entryway.

She was glad to have Arzt with her when Sawyer responded to her summons, never mind how the evening ended. Sawyer was not a morning person, especially not this early a morning person. He scowled as he pushed the tarpaulin aside, jeans resting low on his hips, shirtless, his eyes heavy, his hair mussed. "I didn't leave word for no damn wake up call." He scratched his stomach.

"C'mon Sawyer, grab a shirt. Time to go," said Kate, handing him a mango. "We got things to do."

He stared at the oddly shaped fruit in his palm. "Well, I didn't expect room service but next time how 'bout lettin' me order from the menu?" He scrubbed his face with his other hand. "Damn it, Freckles. Aren'tcha offerin' afternoon classes?" He stretched his neck and shoulders slowly.

Kate swallowed, then glanced at Arzt. "Well, maybe some someone could be talked into leading a later session."

Sawyer followed the look and frowned. He arched his eyebrows in question. Kate nodded.

Arzt scowled first at Sawyer, then Kate.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," sputtered Sawyer, disappearing behind the canvas.

"You know, young lady," said Arzt stiffly, facing her. "I know that I'm older than you, and don't look like him," He pointed to Sawyer's shelter. "But that doesn't mean that I don't have feelings. You pretty people don't know what it's like for the rest of us. I don't appreciate you two and your comments. I'm not stupid. I know you feel stuck with me. But sooner or later, sweetheart, you might find that I can actually help you out."

Kate dropped her gaze to the sand, guilt spreading slowly through her. Despite what the older man thought, it didn't always come down to looks. They helped, but she was too much Diane and Patrick's little girl to think that being attractive was enough.

There were all those times that she was grounded for missed curfews that her smile did not ameliorate, phone privileges revoked that sweet cajoling did not return. The male teachers accepted these offerings and made allowances for missed deadlines and cut classes. Not her parents. They weren't fooled. How many times had Diane told her brunette baby girl that she had the face of an angel and the cunning of the devil?

Pretty is, but unless Arzt understood as pretty does, he could be Sawyer's twin and it wouldn't matter. The know-it-all demeanor was just too much for most people. And in her own case, she didn't know how much pretty was left inside to be as pretty does.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Arzt," she met his stare, and rolled her lips together, the nice warring with the honest.

He gazed balefully at her. "Yeah. I see that."

The sheeting flapped as Sawyer stepped onto the beach, buttoning a denim shirt. "Okay, let's go." He took a quick role. "Hey, where's Muhammad? You let him sleep longer 'an me?"

"We all have our crosses," said Kate to both men.

She strode across the beach, her class at her heels, shoving Diane's voice about being nice to the fat boys away from her consciousness. It bounced another of her mother's maxims – handle a man with subtle machinations – to take its place. She bit her bottom lip and shook her head. Go away!

She concentrated instead on Sayid's neat shelter. She was regularly amused that it grew from the spot he first repaired the transceiver. She wondered now and again if the Iraqi looked up one day from wires and transistors to see a camp had formed around him, so built a place to keep his workspace defined. The tarp and poles were combined to provide a snug living space when the fabric walls were down, or a bright working area by securing a wall to a cleverly propped branch.

The old man would approve.

She rolled her eyes and stepped up to the walled version of the hut. One of her father's sayings – talk drowns out thought - was about to be applied. "Sayid?" Kate called quietly through a gap in the tarp. "It's time to go."

There was no response from the shelter. She frowned and stepped closer to the tarp wall. Lifting a corner to waist level, she repeated her greeting.

"Maybe he's sick," said Sawyer with a yawn. "Sassafras, if Aladdin is sick, is school cancelled for the day? Can't rightly have lessons without teacher's pet."

"Don't you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?" demanded Arzt. He had forgotten to smooth his hair, and tufts randomly stood at attention. "How can you go on and on every waking hour?"

Sawyer took a step back and glared at the older man in the gray light. He blinked, and smiled lazily. "Practice," he said slowly. He looked Arzt up and down. "Like you." He shook his head, then lifted his gaze to the heavens.

"What type of animal do teachers make pets?" asked Sayid, rounding the corner of the shanty. His eyes reflected amusement as they slid slyly at Kate.

"The early birds," retorted Kate. "Are you ready to go? I'd like to get to the valley before the dew evaporates."

They watched as the dark man slipped into his tent. He emerged moments later, his knapsack on his back, staff in his hand. He fell into step with Kate as they left the camp, leaving Sawyer and Arzt to bring up the rear.

They weren't far from the camp when Sawyer stopped to tie his boot. Kate could hear him complaining about sand in his footwear, then hurry to catch up with the trio. "Ya know, Naji," he said to Sayid, pushing past Arzt. "Ya could do everyone a favor and build us a car. Make it run on coconuts."

Sayid's voice was amused. "Coconuts?"

"Hey I was in a bar and heard about this car that runs on vegetable oil!" Sawyer bent at the waist to make eye contact with Kate, then straightened and continued to Sayid. "The coconut has oil –"

"It's a fruit," offered Arzt. "The fruit of a coconut palm. Family Arecaceae. Name for the tree is kalpa vriksha in Sanskrit. It means 'the tree which provides all of life's necessities'."

Sawyer glanced over his shoulder and picked up his pace so that he was a step ahead of Kate and Sayid. "Whatever. It has oil, right? Coconut oil?"

"The source of coconut oil is the dried meat of the seed. The copra," added Arzt, moving quicker.

"Vegetable, fruit. Oil is oil, right? So, we have the fuel. Now you build the car," Sawyer finished smugly. "My dogs are tired of walkin' this damn beach."

"Cars that run on alternative fuels aren't using petroleum," said Arzt with a tone that Kate recognized as full teacher mode. She exchanged looks with the two men at her side, rolling her eyes. She tried to find a thought that she wanted to follow, anything rather than listening to Arzt. That was too much like high school chemistry all over again without the windows framing cute boys. She glanced at the two in stride with her. She smiled impishly. Well. There were some cute boys.

"The majority are electric with hydrogen fuel cells," the teacher continued. "But as was previously stated, there are some other, more interesting alternatives out there. Let's start with the wind up car."

Arzt droned on with no feedback from the others until he asked a question about someone named Tesla that no one acknowledged. When he grew quiet, Kate stole a peek over her shoulder. Arzt glared at her, a heavy frown on his face.

The rest of the walk was quiet.

The full orb of the sun was above the horizon when they reached the meadow. Kate took a breath and began to explain the objectives for the day: learning to read the landscape. This was noticing all the conditions of an area and combining them to see more than a field. The cover used by animals to hide or escape, the commonly used travel route, the once used escape route – pushdown, provided Arzt – were all parts of the tracking story.

She described, with occasional and uninvited contributions from Arzt, how to locate these: look for crushed or bruised leaves or plants; use the sun to highlight the trail made by this damaged plants; use the sun to spot the trail of either as shiny or dull patches of plants wet with dew or dusty from the afternoon heat made when animals passed through. Arzt expounded that experienced trackers had their own jargon, spouted a seemingly never ending list of oddly paired words, and smiled beneficently, as though he saved them embarrassment of using the wrong terminology at the next tracker's gathering.

She instructed the men to turn their backs to her, preferably with eyes closed. She marched a short distance through the waist high grasses in overlapping circles, then returned to the small group. Kate had them face her again, feeling very much like a kindergarten teacher when Sawyer made the hokey pokey gestures and mouthing 'turn yourself around'. She asked if anyone could see her trail. Sawyer glanced at her damp shirt and jeans, and tossed his hand towards the general area in front of them. Sayid also took in the dampness of her attire but studied the damp flora. He pointed out the lines of plants by their dry, darker appearance, her route. Arzt nodded along with every word.

They moved to a fresh section of meadow, and this time Sayid zigzagged through the damp growth. Arzt grew excited as he jabbered 'north, south, then north, east, south, north', drawing an odd but similar shape as Sayid's path with his hand. Sawyer's brow furrowed as he tried to follow the hand and words, deepening into a scowl as he realized he wasn't seeing what Arzt did.

Kate suggested to Sayid that he and Arzt meander to more fresh meadow and let Arzt make the path. She could sense she was losing Sawyer if he didn't make the connection soon. She was also losing the glint of dew as the sun climbed the sky.

With Arzt leading, the two men moved away. Kate turned to a wary and amused Sawyer. She frowned, then smiled winningly at the man. Her first teaching assignment was not going to have a drop out.

"Okay, Sawyer. Look again. Keep in mind what I said. Use the sun. Get it on top. See how it makes the top of the grass look shiny? Sparkly? See it? See where Sayid went – not shiny. The dew has been rubbed off. It's flat. "

"Yeah. Flat ain't shiny. Got that," Sawyer's voice betrayed his exasperation. "I heard ya the first time and I heard it when Mr. Science said it, too. Maybe I just don't wanna find Omar. Even if I could." He sighed and looked her full in the face. "Freckles, I ain't seein' it. I see the grass. Then I see the grass."

Kate dropped into a crouch, pulling at her bottom lip with her teeth. "C'mon, Sawyer, squat. You're too tall. You have to keep the trail between you and the sun."

"Never wanted to be no great white hunter," Sawyer rolled his eyes and dropped onto his heels. "Happy? Here I am, in short land. Lookin' out and seein' glints ---- hey. Over there?" He extended his index finger to indicate the area before them.

She tried to follow his finger. "Where? Describe it."

"The grass is bent … looks like a forty five degree angle, bruised where he stepped heavy, and I think I see a strand of hair – no! It's a beard hair! Muhammad is sheddin'."

She pushed his shoulder with playful disgust. "Damn it, Sawyer! Be serious!"

He allowed himself to topple to the ground. "Do I get points for listenin' close?" His dimples were dazzling.

She extended a hand, resisted the urge to touch his hair, and helped him to stand. "No. Unless you can listen your way to a boar." She held up her palm. "And don't say Arzt. I got that one already."

"Listen Freckles, what ya say you n' me skip the rest of class today?" Sawyer stepped close to her. "Mr. Chips can talk the talk, and Hossam can play his sidekick, the intrepid boar detective. Let's give 'em some real practice." He lowered his voice. "Let's see if they can track us. Consider it a pop quiz."

The back of her neck tingled as he moved close enough for her to feel his breath. She lowered her eyes and felt his hand slide around hers. His skin was warm, his palm scratchy. He slid it up to her elbow, his fingers caressing the inner bend.

"C'mon. Ya know ya want to." He whispered in her ear.

Goose bumps raced up and down her arms. She closed her eyes and savored the moment. She wanted to. Oh yes, she wanted to. She would never disclose the number of times she closed her eyes at night to the image of being held, and stroked, and kissed by this man. Nor the mornings she bolted upright, her heart pounding, the image Sawyer dissipating, her lips pursed for a kiss.

She could have him, if that was what she was after. She had never been as sure of anything as that fact. It wasn't ego – the same was probably true for any female on the island under thirty-five without a mustache. In Sawyer's eyes, she just happened to have the added bonus of getting Jack's goat. The southerner might as well have 'one night stand only' tattooed on his ass, he was so obvious. But she wasn't after that. It would be fun, she had complete faith in that fact, but the fun would go and take Jack with it.

She opened her eyes, taking a step back and removing her hand from his grasp, "Nice try, cowboy. Next time bring an apple."

Sawyer shrugged lightly, fighting a frown. He lost. "Your loss, sweetheart."

She took a deep breath, turning back to face the vegetation. Back to business, she told herself. "So do you see-"

"No." He was sullen now, his face closed. If he had a cigarette, he'd be lighting it up. As it was, he was looking everywhere but at her or the field in front of them.

"Kate!" A male voice called.

She spun to her left, where Sayid and Arzt were working. Sayid was standing, resting both hands on his staff, Arzt to his left obviously elucidating some fine point. Neither was shouting.

"Kate!"

She and Sawyer turned together to see Charlie galloping towards them from the direction of the beach, arms flapping. He stopped running as he reached them, and dropped his hands to his knees, his chest heaving.

"Charlie?" Kate put her hand on the small man's shoulder. His hooded sweatshirt was soaked with sweat. He must have been hurrying for some time. "What's wrong? Is it Jack?"

Sawyer rolled his eyes. "For the love of Mike - Jack." He turned in the direction of Sayid and Arzt. The two were quickly making their way back to them. "Here comes the Calvary, Kate. Just hang on a li'l bit longer. No wait, they're not Jack either." He returned his attention to the musician. "Ya gonna be okay, banjo boy?"

Charlie swallowed, shaking his head, his breath easing. "Nothin's wrong, Kate. Just came… came to join in." He straightened and grinned toothily at her.

"What?" Kate tilted her head, eyes narrowed. She dropped her hand. She glanced at Sawyer, her brow creased, puzzled.

He shrugged and waved the approaching men no rush. "What the hell you goin' on 'bout, boy?"

"Jack said Kate's teaching. Here I am, in time for the A levels," said Charlie, glancing between the two, shifting his weight from leg to leg.

"We ain't takin' fish camp rejects," snorted Sawyer.

"Charlie," Kate glared at Sawyer, then looked back to the expectant brown eyes. "Did Jack send you here?"

"No," the scruffy Englishman shook his head. "Locke showed me the direction you took. It wasn't hard from there. You stuck to the beach then came straight up this way."

"Why did Locke send you?" She found herself speaking slowly. She wasn't sure if it was because she was confused or if she thought Charlie was. Ever since Charlie's chilling statements that he could recall nothing of his ordeal with Ethan, Kate was not certain of the slight man's mental state. Whenever she considered it, she pictured Jack pounding, harrowingly pounding, on the thin musician's chest. She blinked to clear the image.

Arzt and Sayid drew behind Sawyer, Arzt peering over Sawyer's shoulder.

"What's he doing here?" Arzt wrinkled his forehead in puzzlement.

"I believe it was a plane crash," said Sayid mildly. He raised eyebrows to Kate who shrugged while Arzt stared malignantly at the Arab's profile.

"Locke didn't send me," The friendly pitch was starting to slide from the Englishman's voice. He picked at the bandage on his right hand, then met her gaze. "I was looking for you. I found you." He extended his arms. "I want to be a tracker."

"He's already done better than Sawyer," observed Arzt. "I have no problem with him coming along."

"Hey now," objected Sawyer. "You ain't givin' away my spot."

"It's not like you're catching on," began the large man, untying the bandana about his neck.

"Students who initially have the greatest trouble assimilating the lesson often apply it in the practical with amazing ease," said Sayid, and received his second glare of the morning, his first from two directions.

"Are ya standin' up for me or insultin' me, Falafel?" Sawyer stepped back, brow creased, eyes snakelike.

"Hey," Kate cut in sharply, her mouth pulled tight. "Who said the class size is limited to three? And this is no democracy. Stop voting."

She stepped back, scanning their faces, her mind whirling. She considered the morning's progress, and quickly came up with a plan of action: She would work with Charlie and Sawyer while Sayid and Arzt slogged on their own. The condensation was off the weeds and clouds were rolling in, but the "trails" would serve as pushdowns, albeit slight ones. Knowing roughly where the walks had taken place would make it easier to spot the brush that was 'pushed down', the trail. She shared the lesson plan, sending Sayid and Arzt away from her original trail. They could pick from the other two created.

Too late, she realized that the teams were made up of the two that successfully completed the morning exercise and two who, either due to absence or application, had not. Damn. She briefly considered calling Sayid and Arzt back and changing the dance cards, but calculated the grief she would receive and left things as they stood, watching Arzt and Sayid move away.

Kate crossed to the beginning of the path she created earlier, explaining what was to be found, how to find it, emphasizing again to keep the track between line of sight and the sun. Sawyer's face wasn't as blank as Charlie's but she realized she would have to go about describing the skills differently than with her ingrained vocabulary. She half regretted not possessing the old bastard's steely eyes and the ever-threatening air of punishment at his displeasure. She bit her bottom lip, seeking the words, then launched again the point and purpose of the lesson.

Comprehension crept into Sawyer's eyes but he downplayed it. She had to repeat Charlie's name numerous times and tried to drive home the lesson repeatedly to the Englishman.

They broke for lunch, forming a small circle, mango for everyone. Kate was delighted to sit after thoroughly working the meadow with her team of men. Arzt and Sayid were practiced enough to be bored. She was pleased with Sawyer's improvement and puzzled with Charlie. The musician was distracted, not listening, not looking. After being so gung-ho, his lack of attention made no sense. She glanced over at the scruffy blonde man, noting the fingers tapping his knees, while Sayid and Arzt played trump-this with boar facts. Sawyer stretched out, eyes closed: the southerner was at recess. Too bad the sun had retreated behind clouds to make incomplete the image of his rangy frame sunbathing.

Sayid began with the fact that he spoke to Locke as the older man returned to the camp early in this morning. Locke had shared that he and Boone were indeed hunting feral pigs, but the presence of the human camps had disrupted the nesting matriarch's habitats, causing the wily mammals to move out of the immediate area. Arzt disagreed with this assessment. He first cited the animal's complete scientific classification, then stated with great authority that since sus scrofa were nocturnal, the survivors weren't about when the pigs were, so there wasn't any conflict. Sayid returned that the new hunters should concentrate on finding a different water source. The caves were too populated, regardless of sleeping patterns, for any animal to utilize it as a watering hole and that fact would cause a shift in patterns.

Charlie worked his lips in and out of his mouth, his eyes darting about the faces around him. He didn't eat any of the mango, juggling it from hand to hand. He suddenly dashed it to the ground and jumped to his feet, shouting, "Right! Why aren't we in there looking for Claire?" He shook his hand at the thick brush of the jungle. "That's why you're really out here, right? I don't get what you're playing at." He turned to Kate. "Why are you doing this? She's still out there!"

"Charlie," Kate stood. "What are you talking about?"

"Claire! You're out here to find Claire, yeah? You've been looking for Claire and you won't let me help. You have to let me help. Now let's stop this and get on with it." He grabbed Kate's shoulder and started to shake her. "Kate!" Charlie beseeched. "Claire!"

With a sharp twist, Kate broke his hold. "Stop that!"

Sawyer was on his feet seconds before Arzt and Sayid. The tall shaggy man pulled Charlie an arm's length from the woman.

"What's the matter with you, boy?" Sawyer demanded, keeping his hand wrapped around the younger man's bicep.

"You're the only ones still looking!" gulped Charlie, his eyes filling with tears. He angrily swiped them with the back of his hands. "You're the only ones still looking for Claire. You have to let me help. I have to find her!" He yanked himself free of Sawyer, unbalancing himself in the process and falling to the grass.

"Charlie," Kate moved to kneel beside the downed man.

Sawyer took a menacing step towards them.

Kate shook her head minutely and spoke kindly. "Charlie, no one here is trying to exclude you. We really aren't looking for Claire. Sweetie, if Locke can't find her trail, there isn't one."

"The old codger isn't looking!"

She sighed and touched his hand. "If we were looking, you could come with us. But I'm really just trying to teach how to find boar."

"There isn't any boar! Locke said so this morning!" cried Charlie, his face anguished.

"Your hand is bleeding," Kate pointed to the darkening bandage, almost happy to have this as a distraction. "You need Jack to take a look at that."

"It's a cut. He's already tended to it," Charlie pulled his knees under his chin and glowered.

"It's bleeding again," said Kate patiently. "You can't stay out here with an open wound. You need to go back." She looked to the standing men. "He needs to go back."

"I'll accompany him," stated Sayid calmly. "Come, Charlie. You can join Kate's class with the next group."

"Wait a minute," declared Arzt. "It makes more sense for me to go back with Mr. Music. This is a refresher course for me, remember? I can miss half a day and not be behind. You two need the instruction and the practice. Remember, theory and practice provides proficiency."

He stooped beside the huddled figure. "C'mon, Charlie. Let's go. You can show me how you found us. I can see that you're a lot better at this than Sawyer."

Charlie sighed heavily, resignation etched in his sagging form. He wearily climbed to his feet. "Somebody has to look," his voice shook, his eyes downcast. "She's still out there."

Arzt nodded to the small knot and started across the field, his arm around Charlie's stooped shoulders. Charlie was cradling the bandaged hand in the other. They headed in the direction of the beach, Arzt's hand waving in lecture mode.

"Poor Charlie," said Kate, mouth twisted sympathetically, watching them go. "He's so lost."

"Yeah, well ain't we all?" replied Sawyer. He looked to Kate. "So now what, teach?"

She took a breath, turning to face the heavy growth yards beyond them. "Time to hit the jungle," Kate declared, meeting Sayid's gaze. She glanced to Sawyer with a pert smirk. "Sooey sooey."

They walked in tandem, silent, for a time. The trees cut a lot of the sun but seemed to double the humidity. Kate smoothed her hair back with both hands and lifted it off her neck. She forgotten anything with which to tie it back or up, and now regretted it. Not only was it sticky against her neck, the clamminess was causing it to frizz.

They wouldn't stay out much longer, she mused. Charlie's outburst reminded her that covering the survival fundamentals wasn't enough on the island. Water, food, shelter, the great luck to have a doctor among their number, they weren't sufficient to keep Claire safe. The girl did nothing to endanger herself and yet was missing. The pilot did little more than stretch after surviving the crash, and the move proved to be fatal.

She shuddered, the image of that tattered body in the trees chilling her. Suddenly, she wanted to huddle close to Jack and pretend to be safe. She wanted to be back in high school, running with Tom. She wanted to back in the woods with a half empty bucket of berries. She wanted to be anywhere but here. Anywhere.

Nothing else bad had happened since Claire's disappearance, she reminded herself. The island was as dangerous at this moment as it had been two days ago, she told herself sternly. She could take care of herself. She always took care of herself. She always had. Eat, drink, sleep. Keep to the basics; that included thoughts. Don't dwell on what couldn't be changed. Don't wonder for a minute what was happening to Claire, if anything still could.

Eat, drink, sleep. Don't think about the Thing. It was the sensible thing to do. She was sensible. She kept her head. She had a practical streak so strong that her mother called it ruthlessness, insisting it was frightening. Not that it took much to frighten Diane. The old bastard terrified her mother. So, when her daughter decided to do something, the daughter did it, and when this scared her mother, it was the natural order of things.

Not that it didn't sting to see Diane cower: no daughter wanted her mother to think her a psychopath. Kate knew right from wrong. Patrick and Diane's little girl had it beat into her on a regular basis. Sayid torturing Sawyer, that was wrong. Boone hiding the last of the water was stupid, but not wrong. Not telling everyone about the radio transmission that was blocking the transceiver, that was wrong. But it wasn't completely wrong. See, she said to her absent parent, she could see shades of grey.

But the Thing on the island wasn't grey. It wasn't confronting her at this moment.

Neither was Ethan.

Right now, it wasn't time to count to five. Five was for emergencies. This wasn't an emergency. This was being justifiably aware of danger. Then ignoring the fear that came with it. She couldn't fall to the ground and cry in terror. It would serve no purpose. It wasn't practical. So, Charlie's outburst hadn't spooked her at all.

"Hey school marm," called Sawyer from behind her. "I don't mind followin' ya into the heart of the jungle." He considered his words. "Ya know I do mind followin' ya into the heart of jungle. You got a destination in mind?"

She stopped walking, glad of the interruption. It stopped the noise in her head. She turned. "Um. The best case, I'd like to find a nest or some signs of feeding, regular or patched."

"Yeah. Think ya'll be doin' that soon?" He made a quizzical face. "Either it's cloudin' up out there, or it's later than I think. Should we be headin' back?"

"I'd really like to find a feeding run. You know, clues the beast is around," she replied. "Let's go a bit more, then call it a day."

"If it rains enough, runoff could provide a direction to find a water source," said Sayid, stepping closer to Sawyer's back. "That would give us a better starting point to finding the boar's habitat."

"Runoff?" Frowning, Sawyer twisted to face the Iraqi. "We should hang around in the rain in case there's runoff? Omar, that's some of the stupidest reasonin' I've heard in a long time."

"If we start back now and it rains, we will get wet. If we stay here and it rains, we will get wet. I do not see the difference."

"We have a sayin' ya probably don't know bein' from the desert 'n all. It goes along the lines of 'smart enough to get out of the rain'. Think about it."

Sayid said nothing, his eyes holding Sawyer's levelly.

"Ooookay. Lemme spell it out then: the difference is we're closer to camp when the rain hits if we leave now. That means we're wet for a shorter bit a time. What are we – three – four hours away?" Sawyer looked to Kate with the question.

Sayid's neutral expression did not change.

"More like three. Let's just go a little farther," repeated Kate, putting her words to action.

As she walked, she swept the area with her eyes, looking for spots open enough to spot a tusk rub or rooting. Locke was able to point to scored trees with clumps of bristly hair of the boar on the first hunting trip. Right now, she wasn't sure if that was because they had some idea of the direction of the animals, following the trotted prints from the beach or Locke was amazingly good. This hunting party was running blind. It would take dumb luck to trip over a good sign.

She mulled over Sayid's idea of finding a watering hole. Or was it Locke's?

She had no idea if and when it would rain, and if it did, if it would be hard enough to cause the water to run on the surface. It sounded feasible. Would it be worth the wait and discomfort to test it out? It was always possible they were nowhere near a water source, but then they could rule out this area and try another. She wished she had talked to Locke herself. It was possible he and Boone were in the same position, and could at least inform her of the parts of the island the pair had eliminated from their search.

"Fine," snorted Sawyer. "Ignore the voice of reason. Let's walk until we find somethin' to eat us."

Kate twisted to face the disgruntled man. "It would help if you'd look down, Sawyer. Like you said, it's a three-hour walk back. Do you want to walk three hours tomorrow this way to pick it up -"

"The French woman must be near some kinda food supply to make it sixteen years. Why don't we head in her direction?" demanded Sawyer of Sayid.

Kate heaved a sigh of frustration and returned her attention to the ground in front of her.

"That area is very dangerous," replied Sayid, his voice tight. It matched the controlled tone he used when he met she in the fruit grove days back. "You do not want to go there."

"Is it dangerous it, chief? Or are ya scared of her?" snorted Sawyer

Kate swallowed the sigh this time and turned completely around. Sawyer was facing Sayid who was using his tracking stick to push away growth.

"Sawyer - "

"A print!" called Sayid excitedly, pointing down. He dropped on one knee. "It's a print! It looks a shoe print!"

The heavens opened and rain pummeled them with fury.

End chp 4


	5. Chapter 5

**chapter 5/6**

Kate instinctively glanced at the sky but the lashing drops forced her to lower her gaze. What was it that Charlie had called the cloudburst that day when looking for the cockpit? End of the world type weather? The sky poured water as if trying to wash them away.

"What is it?" she started towards the men, tripping over a clump of grass in her haste. She struggled to keep her balance. Already the rain made footing tricky – things were slick, it was hard to see.

It brought to mind the horrible dash through the jungle when Claire and Charlie were taken. She half expected to see Jack, prone in the mud, muttering about Ethan. She still wasn't sure if guilt and exhaustion had been the culprits for Jack's battering or if Ethan had actually been there. There had been no sign of Ethan when she found Jack. She struggled yet with the idea of Claire and Charlie waiting patiently while Ethan took the time to pummel Jack. Or that Ethan had stashed the pair without leaving sign of it.

Sayid was kneeling, trying to protect his find from the pounding downpour. He watched Kate's progress. "Here," he said when she was by Sawyer's side. He leaned back, using the staff for balance.

Sawyer towered over him. "It's mine," he said with disgust, peering down at the indentation in the now crumbling sandy soil over Sayid's shoulder.

"Is it Sawyer's?" she asked, dropping to her knees, shoulder to shoulder with Sayid.

"No." Sayid pulled back to let her view the print, his hair dripping spirals. "His boot heel is different from this. This is a distinct heel. Separate from the shoe. Or it was." He frowned deeply, watching the print melt into a small indentation.

She squinted. The light was reduced and the curtain of rain was not helping visibility. If there hadn't been the sand content, it would have been a puddle of mud. As it was, she could just discern the shape.

"Then it's his," persisted Sawyer.

"I am wearing track shoes." Sayid slid his eyes up to meet Sawyer's.

"Then it's hers!" Sawyer pointed at Kate. "And what makes you the expert, Arzt Junior? There's not a wire or a battery on the damn thing."

"No. No, it's not mine, Sawyer," replied Kate, shaking her soaking head. "It's getting hard to see but it's too wide for me. Plus I was walking over there."

"You told Dan'l Boone not to use position," Sawyer protested.

"Practice and practical sound alike but they're not," she snapped. Arghh. She was quoting her father. She fruitlessly pushed her bangs to the side in a vain attempt to reduce the water cascading down her face. She met Sayid's gaze. "You're right. It's a footprint. Could be a boot."

She straightened, sighing. Sayid rose next to her. She scanned the area ahead. There were enough broad leaves that it was possible to find some continuation of the mark. With a lot of dumb luck. But it took luck to find this in the first place.

"It seems to be heading that way," Sayid gestured deeper into the forest.

She nodded, her lips twisted wryly. Of course it was. It wouldn't make sense for them to head back to the beach, back towards their camp, no matter how much she'd like that right now. "Let's go." She took a small stride directly ahead of the print and stooped to examine the ground. "The average stride isn't so big. If he's moving in a straight line, we should be able to find -"

"Hold on a minute," sputtered Sawyer. "It's gettin' dark. This is actin' like an all night soaker and you two wanna keep goin'?" He took a breath and added dramatically. "Lord, save me from heroes."

"Sawyer, it's a human print," said Kate, peering at the sandy soil as she pushed foliage aside.

"It's a boot print. If it ain't you and ain't me and ain't him, then it's gotta be Locke," argued Sawyer. "You're gonna track yourself right back to camp." He paused. "So why am I arguin' about that?"

"Rousseau said that there are others on the island," stated Sayid, the excitement in his voice edged with a note Kate couldn't quite place. She wished she could study his face. He stepped ahead of her and kneeled. He used his stick to push aside the vegetation as he scoured the area.

"Ya look like you're lookin' for a contact lens." Sawyer spun slowly about in a tight circle, palms up. He stopped as he faced the two again. "You can barely see two feet in front of ya and you two-"

Kate rose and shifted her search to the right. Sayid did the same to the left. If there was a print to be found to match this one, this was the way to find it, she mulled. Never had she worked in such a hard rain, and couldn't imagine having any success, yet she couldn't squelch the hope for another find.

"You two are ignorin' me. Fine," spat Sawyer.

Kate stood, and watched as Sawyer straightened his back, his jaw sliding from side to side. "You could help," she stated irritability. "You know how."

"Here!" cried Sayid.

Sawyer rolled his eyes. She glared at him and joined the kneeling man, sharing a look of excitement. She inspected the find carefully.

Again, a large leaf had both protected and hidden the sign of passing. Pressed into earth was a much sharper shape of a heel, the rounded edges softening as the rain, impossible to deflect entirely, reached them. Either more force was exerted on this step or the medium was softer. Kate examined the leaf. In full light, she might have noticed the bruising. Then again, she was no Locke. Luck was still with them.

She fumed with the frustration of this happening now, in this weather, at this time of day. This could be so much easier and so much faster! Without the driving rain, she could try to age the print. With the sun, she could sight up the trail of the bruised flora. She pushed the irritation away. There were bigger considerations here: was it Ethan? Could it lead to Claire? Was it the French woman's others?

"Well?" demanded Sawyer impatiently.

"Good!" she grinned at the dark-haired man in front of her.

Despite the heavy rain, she could see his brown eyes dance in response.

She turned her face to Sawyer. "It's a boot." She climbed to her feet, Sayid mirroring her movement. "Now we can get his stride," she said with satisfaction. Circumstances be damned. They were making progress. Under more normal conditions, she would forego the tracking stick, but now the tool was a big help.

Sayid stepped around Sawyer, and returned to the original print. The Iraqi placed the tracking stick at the heel of the track and angled it so that it reached the second. He fumbled with the knife as he pulled it from his belt. It slipped from his grasp and bounced, handle first, to the ground and disappeared under the foliage.

Kate cursed the passing time as Sayid scrambled to find the loose blade. They were working against the wrong side of the light clock.

"Here," Sawyer offered his hunting knife to Sayid. "If you two gonna insist on followin' this, let's get the followin' done. I'll find yours."

Sayid nodded, taking the implement. He moved to the second print, quickly notched the staff with the stride's length, then pulled it to place it from this heel. Kate covered the maximum distance it indicated, sweeping aside plants with her hand. This could speed things up. Sayid, knife returned to sheath, worked just behind her and to her left.

"Got it!" she announced, feeling satisfaction deep in her chest. This was good.

Sayid peered over her shoulder and met her small smile. "It is the same size."

"Could it be Locke's?" she asked lowly, not wanting Sawyer to hear.

"When I spoke to him this morning, I looked at his feet. The boots that he wore are similar to yours and Sawyer's," said Sayid in kind. He cast his eyes down, considering. He met her gaze. "I was attempting to study the prints about his camp when he returned with Boone. It was not fully light and my skill level is very basic, but I do not believe that these match ones near Locke's lodging."

Kate nodded, satisfied. "Good. Let's keep going." She stood. Sawyer was not behind them. She scanned the area. "Sawyer!" she called, feeling a flicker of exasperation. It was replaced by fear, as there was no sign of the man.

Sayid positioned the tracking stick and straightened to full height. He turned, brow furrowed.

"Sawyer's missing," said Kate glanced over her shoulder at the Iraqi, her forehead creased with worry. "Dammit." She huffed a sigh. "Keep going. I'll find him."

"It would not be wise-" argued Sayid, closing the distance between them.

"Lay some wisdom on us, Balthazar," Sawyer emerged from the curtain of flora and rain to make his way to them.

"Here." Sawyer offered the recovered knife to the former military man. Sayid shrugged and while the knives were traded, Sawyer said, "Don't stop on account of me. Just checkin' out the neighborhood." He smiled at Kate with a full dimple effect.

She closed her eyes. The day was catching up with her: her legs were tired, and being wet was irritating, and she was chilled, and Sawyer's smile was warm, inviting. "Just stick with us, please." He was so aggravating and worrying and adorable.

"Ya don't have much light left, sweetheart." Sawyer winked. "I suggest ya make hay."

Kate cocked her head, holding his blue eyes with hers, her mouth narrowed. Some day she would thnk about why at times she found him amusing and others annoying. That wouldn't be today. "C'mon Sayid, let's keep going." She returned to the task at hand.

The two continued working the trail. Procedure and luck prevailed. Each stride had left a mark. Kate was pleased: an unbroken trail was highly unusual. Given the conditions, her bag of tricks wouldn't be of much use if a print was missing. They relied more and more heavily on the tracking stick as the light grew dimmer. With each track found, Kate wondered how much longer the light would hold out. With each stoop, she wondered how much longer her knees would hold out. As she watched Sayid stand and kneel, she could see he was trying to ignore the stiffness of his leg. He was losing the battle.

Sawyer kept pace with them, making short forays out of Kate's sight. She didn't like it, but wasn't going to take the time to run him down and herd him back. The errant student made certain that she was aware when he caught up so she wasn't completely unhappy. She had to acknowledge that she and Sayid didn't really need him right now and that Sawyer was not a fan of playing the fifth wheel.

"Kate." Sayid's voice curled with irritation. She suspected it was not the first time that he spoke.

She shook her head to clear it. "Sorry." She made her way to his indistinct form. "Found one?" She bent at the waist, hands on her knees.

"No." Sayid sat back on his heels. "As we thought before, it's too -"

"Hey Scully," called Sawyer. He drew close enough to be seen as a blob. "Grab Mulder there and c'mon."

"What?" She peered into the rain, trying to see the man's face clearly.

"Time to call it a night, Freckles. Grab the boar wonder and c'mon. I found a drier spot," Sawyer took her hand and tugged her up. His fingers were cold, like hers.

"I'm going to mark the last print," said Sayid. "So we can find it in the morning."

"Whatever. Just make it quick like." Sawyer gave her hand a pull and began to lead her away. She was tired enough to drift with him.

Kate didn't see or hear a response from Sayid but the sound of ripping cloth could be heard under the rain. The pale blur that was Sayid floated like a ghost away from them. She fought a yawn, allowing the hand holding hers to act as a tether to the hope of the day ending.

"It's done." Sayid's voice, by her left, was unmistakable.

Kate reached out with her free hand, touched a muscled arm and slid her fingers to a long fingered hand. They were now a human chain of three. "Home, James."

Sawyer grunted and they moved slowly what felt west of their path. There was the odd color of the surreal about the adventure now. All that was concrete were her jarring steps on the slick ground, the two hands in hers, the constant pull from Sawyer, the irregular gait of Sayid. She had no sense of time or place.

It brought to mind being a child roused from sleep, carried in her father's arms to the car. There was nothing to separate the dreams from the images passing the car window as they drove through the dark to whatever adventure the old man had planned for them next.

Sawyer led them to a thick copse of trees with leaves that stopped the constant rain on her shoulders. There was no conversation. They were too tired. Although sleeping close made sense in the sharing of body heat, no one, not even Sawyer, suggested it. Within arm's length was tacitly understood and executed for safety purposes. They curled in close proximity of one another and slept.

Kate woke with Sawyer pressed against her back, his elbow resting on her hip and his hand resting lightly on her breast. Sayid's hair was ticklish near her chin as he curled close, his breath soft on her skin, her hand on his side. The ground was hard under her but she was warm and only faintly damp. She closed her eyes and enjoyed for a little while longer the sensation of being safe, the muscled bodies surrounding her.

Sayid's breathing changed and he eased away slowly.

Kate opened her eyes, meeting the brown ones. "Good morning," she said quietly with a small smile.

Sawyer stirred behind her. His hand was withdrawn quickly. "The last time I woke up with this many people, the ladies were twins, and I had one hell of a hangover."

Sayid considered Sawyer, skepticism evident in his creased brow. Sawyer shrugged, satisfied grin covering his face. Kate shook her head. Truth or lie, either was likely with Sawyer.

The self-proclaimed debaucher propped himself onto his elbows as Sayid sat up. Kate flexed her shoulders, tugged her shirt smooth, and climbed to her feet. Waking in clothes was never her favorite thing to do - the connotations were never happy ones - and the waistband and seams of her jeans were still damp. She touched her hair tentatively, freeing a few small twigs and leaves. She tried to comb it with her fingers, doubting her success to tame its wiry response to yesterday's humidity. She pulled back the thick tresses with both hands, rolled up the length, and wrapped a few hairs about it as a tie. It would have to serve.

Appearance attended, she looked around, appreciating being able to see more than two feet in front of her. She was pleased with what she saw.

The small knot of trees that had protected them from the rain last night with their broad leaves, was also hosting the woody vine of kiwi fruit. Room with a roof and a snack machine too. She studied the trunks of the trees. Where was the easiest access?

"Anyone want breakfast?" she asked, following the vine with her eyes until spotting a cluster of brown orbs.

"Got bacon 'n eggs?" asked Sawyer lazily. "Like mine sunny side up."

She disregarded the comment, instead selected a multi-branched tree and scrambled up. She tugged on a fruit. It resisted. Not exactly ripe. She didn't care. Her stomach was growling and she was going to put something in it. She tried another. Same resistance. She yanked.

"So," Sawyer sat up, wrists on bent knees, watching her. "Once we're done eatin', ready to head back to the camp for reinforcements?"

She looked from the kiwi in her hand to Sawyer, then launched it at the man. It glanced off his shoulder.

"Hey!" Sawyer jumped to his feet, hand rubbing the spot. "That hurts!"

"Sorry." She plucked a small ovoid with a snap of her wrist. "Sayid!" She gently lobbed this one to the

dark-haired man who deftly caught it. "They're a little on the hard side but I'm not being picky."

"At this moment I believe that I could eat the vine," replied Sayid, dropping the fruit and pulling plant debris from his hair. He pulled it away from his face and off his neck, then released it with a look of regret. The rain had done nothing to calm his curls.

She collected about a dozen pieces, pitching them to Sayid one by one. Sawyer glared and stomped about the entire time. Provisions collected, Kate descended nimbly.

"C'mon, Sawyer. I know you're hungry. Let's eat," she coaxed as the tall man scowled and moved an exaggerated distance from her, massaging his shoulder.

She sank next to Sayid who was peeling the thickish hairy skin from the green flesh with a knife. He speared a denuded fruit with the blade and offered the handle to her.

"Do you have any water in your knapsack?" he asked as she hungrily bit into the tough kiwi, taking care to avoid the knife's edge.

"I think I'm out," she mumbled, mouth full of very sharp tasting fruit. "Ummm. You might want the vine. That's …" she swallowed, widened her watering eyes and pursed her lips. "Tart. Wow."

"Didn't ya pack for an overnighter, scooter?" Sawyer plopped next to Sayid, extending a half full bottle. "Another reason to head back, Freckles. When the overage boy scout ain't prepared, no one is."

Sayid accepted the bottle and drank.

"What is your hurry to get back to camp?" she said with exasperation. "We have all day. You have a library book due today?"

"I'd like to change my clothes," Sawyer retorted. He plucked a kiwi from the pile by Sayid, eyeing it skeptically. "'Sides, we gotta be missin' some meals worth eatin'." He pulled his knife from its holster and began to saw slices. As a jagged slice plopped onto his leg, he shook his head. "Didn't think ya could cook."

Kate handed Sayid his knife and selected the largest kiwi. She'd try it with the skin, she told Sayid. It couldn't hurt the taste. She bit into it tentatively, decided that choking was a better risk than tasting, and swallowed as quickly as possible, taking as big a bite as she thought safe.

Since she was making decisions, Kate proposed that they return to the site of the last print. At Sawyer's less than thrilled expression, she considered and offered that at noon they would turn around to head back to the beach. She caught Sayid's surprised then irritated countenance in the corner of her eye, but chose not to address it. He didn't squawk like Sawyer did every five minutes, and who knew where they'd be or what they'd have found by noon.

They ate what they could of the morning fruit. It was not the most satisfying meal, she and Sayid agreed but it stilled the stomach pangs. Sawyer interjected the pangs weren't stilled so much as pickled. This did not stop them from dropping the remaining uncut pieces into Sayid's backpack. With luck, they wouldn't need it. But the Irish in her always cottoned to the notion that if she left something behind, need for it would bite her on the ass four blocks away.

The quick scan over her shoulder of the night camp as they departed was an ingrained habit. Too many hotel rooms, boarding house stays. Of course, there was nothing to retrieve. She turned her head as Sawyer and Sayid left their stand of trees, and hurried to catch up.

Sawyer led them through the rain and dew soaked foliage for short distance. "Here we are, children. Go find your pretty tracks. Ya have until noon." He spotted a large hump of rock and sauntered to clamber onto its mossy top. "I'll be here."

Sayid peered to the left then right. He frowned deeply. "This is the proper location?"

"What?" Sawyer's voice was peeved. "It might not be the exact spot, skippy, I'm not the star pupil 'n all but I'm pretty sure this is where we were."

"I don't see my mark," murmured Sayid with frustration.

"What did you use?" asked Kate, scanning the area and when nothing caught her eye looked back to Sayid.

"My tracking stick. I pushed it into the ground as deeply as I could and –"

"Way to go, genius. I'm sure a stick is gonna jump right out at us here in the jungle, with such a shortage of 'em around," scoffed Sawyer on his perch. "Poor Hansel. Birds eat your bread crumbs?"

"I fastened material from my shirt as a tie. It should be visible." He scowled deeply at Sawyer. "If we are in the right place."

"If we're not, guess you're gonna have to get yourself back there. But over there," Sawyer gestured with his left hand. "Is where I took Miss Kate's hand." He grinned, straightened his legs, and dropped his pack. "Better get movin'. Ya only got until high noon."

"I don't remember a rock of that size anywhere near us," argued Sayid.

"Of course not, Dan'l. It didn't have a track on it." Sawyer smiled slowly and leaned back. "Tick. Tock."

"You go that way," Kate pointed to her right, trying to circumvent the explosion that was brewing as Sayid's temper frayed and Sawyer taunted. "I'll go this way. Let's look. I'm not recognizing much either, but he was the one that was going back and forth. I think we have to trust him on this."

She watched as Sayid considered, words rising to his lips to be swallowed. He nodded and tramped slowly in the direction that Kate indicated, examining the area low and high.

She shook her head at Sawyer, and searched the area before her on the off chance they somehow left evidence of their passing. She didn't think there was much of a possibility the rain hadn't washed most away but maybe something –

"Here!" shouted Sayid. "Over here!"

Kate spun and ran. She suddenly felt lighter. She hadn't realized how much she wanted to return to Jack with a proof of her worth. Locke couldn't find Claire. Not alone. Maybe with Kate's help, they could bring the pregnant girl home.

Sayid was kneeling, studying the land. Déjà vu, smiled Kate.

He shook his head, frowning, as she joined him. He pointed to the ground. "It's the strip of cloth that I had tied. It's here. But the stick is missing."

"The stick is missin'," drawled Sawyer as he strolled over. "Maybe ya didn't tie it tight enough. Maybe your flag turned into a kite and flew away."

Sayid lifted the bit of fabric. It was muddied but a loop was much in evidence.

Sawyer shrugged. "Don't mean it didn't fly off."

"No, it does not," Sayid stood, frustration evident, his hands opening and closing into fists. "Neither does it mean that it did."

Kate pulled at her bottom lip with her teeth and crossed her arms over her chest. She looked up and down the area, feeling the enormity of the odds of finding the tracks again. She sighed. It had been too good to be true. Now her luck had flipped back to its standard state. All hands lost. Abandon ship.

Except she couldn't. The stubborn in her reared its head.

She had a deadline, one she knew Sawyer would enforce, so she couldn't waste too much time hunting for the grail. She should look. Sayid should look. Sawyer should look. He wouldn't but he should. They should try to find some print, some path of broken or bruised plants, some bit of fabric in the tip of a sharp branch. Yesterday's gift had to be repaid even if it was only in time.

Even wet, the fabric didn't weigh much. If tossed with manly might, it wouldn't go far. So, she concluded, dropping her arms to her side, start close to where the material was found. Fan out. Maybe it wasn't her luck this time. Maybe it was Claire's.

"Okay," she said slowly. "It's highly unlikely it was dropped where you found it, but I'm starting here. Sayid, take about ten paces that way and see if you find anything," she stressed the word. "That could be one of our tracks from yesterday. Mine, yours, Sawyer's, our mystery guest, your tracking stick, anything from yesterday. Sawyer, ten more paces that way. Same drill. We have to try."

Sayid nodded and marched in the direction she had pointed. Sawyer worked his jaw back and forth, sighed, and ambled to his assignment.

She crouched, getting the sun on top of the foliage. No expectations should mean no disappointment, but her mouth twisted anyway when the field lacked sign of passage. She studied the clumpy damp dirt, working not to push hopes into seeing forms where none existed. She straightened, moved a few feet, and repeated her process.

She was intently studying what might be the rim of a print or just a small ridge of soil when Sawyer called: "Freckles, would ya settle for a path?"

"What?" She stood and scanned to locate him.

Sayid rose from tall grasses and watched.

"In the story that is this landscape, quote the Arzt, I think I found a bookmark," Sawyer all but preened.

"A bookmark?" she couldn't stop the smile. Sawyer had actually listened to the teacher's ramblings? She hadn't.

"A path, a trail, an animal highway, a boar freeway," listed Sawyer.

Kate made her way to stand at his elbow. He pointed ahead to a narrow strip of land that lacked vegetation. It wended its way out of sight. She twisted to look over her shoulder. It did the same behind them.

"I'd say some li'l piggy went to the market on this route," the southerner drawled.

She turned to him, nodding. "Good job. Hey Sayid, come see what Sawyer found!"

It was a trail. Trail meant steady traffic. Steady traffic on this part of the island meant four legs. It was almost enough to make up for losing the single human tracks. She ignored the lingering sense of disappointment that it wouldn't help Claire. That hadn't been the objective of this incursion, she reminded herself. The prints they found may have meant nothing.

How did someone's presence this deep in the jungle mean nothing?

"Do you think it parallels the tracks that we were following?" mused Sayid as he gazed at Sawyer's find.

"How the hell would I know?" retorted Sawyer.

"Worth following, don't you think?" suggested Kate, arms akimbo, pointing her chin as her eyes met Sayid's.

"I am not certain that we should abandon our first find," replied Sayid, his jaw setting to stubborn. "It's possible that we can locate-"

"Tick tock, Mohammad," interrupted Sawyer. "I might agree to stroll down that path past the noon hour, but your tracks in a haystack are gonna be playin' by the agreed to rules. Give it up, man, they're gone."

How many times had she seen that stubborn expression on Sayid's face? When the fuselage burned, when Jack moved to the caves, when she demanded to know where he and Jack were dragging Sawyer? The man answered his own conscience, logic be damned.

Kate sighed. She took a step closer to Sayid, locking eyes with Sawyer for a moment, then lowered her voice for the dark-haired man's ears. "Sayid, let's take this path. You can straggle all you want on the way back. If you find anything, we'll send Sawyer on his way and stay on it to the end. One way or another."

His eyes searched hers, his face a mask of neutrality.

"What are you two up to over there?" demanded Sawyer.

"Let's go," agreed Sayid with a small nod.

She could tell he wasn't happy with the compromise but logic won out. She'd have to tell Jack. "C'mon Sawyer," she called. "Let's see if this little piggy went whee whee whee all the way home."

End Chp 5


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6/6**

Amazing, thought Kate as they moved in single file on the path. Move a mere four feet to the east and behold: a superhighway for animals. Move west, more grass and frustration. Maybe that was what her father had been trying to teach her: life was random.

Locke would be thrilled, she mused, as her eyes swept the ground. The tracks weren't completely washed away in spots, and the scat she spotted here and there put the dot to the sentence. Many animals moved around here: it was a well-stocked supermarket of meat on the hoof just waiting for the hunter to walk in and pick.

"Hey Sawyer," Kate tossed over her shoulder with an impish grin. "Did ya know that poop dries from the inside out?"

"Sassafras, ya know just how to sweet talk a guy," replied Sawyer to her backpack.

Sayid's muffled snort of amusement from behind Sawyer was barely discernable.

"Just thought you should know. It could be a good pick up line. Hey look!" She stopped suddenly, pointing to her feet, causing Sawyer to bump in her shoulder. Sayid stepped to the side, avoiding a pile up.

"A boar print!" she said happily. "New, today. See, it looks kind of like a deer print, but more spread. See the dew claw? "

"I. Don't. Care," said Sawyer slowly. "School's out, sweetheart, the deal is to follow the trail 'til noon. Then home."

Sayid pushed past the man and studied the print. "Aren't boar nocturnal?" he asked, looking up to meet Kate's eyes.

"Usually. But they don't have to be," she answered. "That's the wild. No real rules."

"Lesson noted," drawled Sawyer. "I'll make a point of sharin' that with the doc. Let's get goin'."

"Kate," Sayid stepped off the trail to a small tree trunk. "Is this a tusk rub?" He dropped carefully to one knee, touching the freshly scarred bark. He shifted to give Kate room as she reached his side.

She examined the bark, grooved near knee height with straight lines. "I'd say so. Looks like the ones Locke found during our first hunt."

"Will you two stop!" exclaimed Sawyer. "We know there's boar here. As far as I'm concerned, we can turn around right now. Job done. Whooeee."

"Locke said they find their food by rooting, then they wallow in the dirt. I think they rub their tusks sometimes against a tree next," mused Kate, searching the immediate area. "I wonder if it's always in that order. Hey, over there."

Sawyer sighed dramatically as Kate and Sayid, pushing up to his feet, scurried to disturbed patch of earth on the other side of the path. It was crumbly with the damp, gouges apparent in spots, almost clean swept in other.

"So it ate and wallowed here," said Sayid slowly. "Then trotted over there to … rub against the tree." His eyes scanned the area of green plants. He stopped and squinted, a puzzled expression quickly replaced uncertainty. Using his index finger, he gestured from the wallow to the direction of the rub, indicating a line. "Kate, does that look like a…" He struggled to produce the term. "An escape route….one time trial…a pushdown to you?" He indicated beyond the rub with a flick of his wrist, to the tall plants behind it.

"Mrs. Kotter, give Horshak the damned 'A' and be done with it," snorted Sawyer.

Kate narrowed her eyes, studying the faint stripe of crushed undergrowth. She pulled at her bottom lip with her teeth, and nodded. "Good catch, Sayid. It sure looks like one to me. Must be tracks around here of whatever it was that spooked it."

"You wonder what spooked it?" erupted Sawyer. "Hell Freckles, weren't you on the beach the night of the crash? Did you see the trees fall down?"

"I see no leveled trees," replied Sayid calmly. "I heard nothing earlier. Kate said that the track is fresh. Whatever is …in the jungle did not chase this boar."

"Fine. Maybe it wasn't spooked. Maybe it was pissed. Maybe it was tired of runnin' from a couple of lunkheads like you two," Sawyer wasn't exactly shouting. "Ya go right ahead and look around. I'm followin' this trail. It's gotta lead someplace these boar wanna go. I wanna see that someplace and then I am headin' back to my tent."

He brushed past Kate and stomped down the path.

Kate sighed and studied her feet for a moment, then raised her gaze to meet Sayid's. "He has a point."

It was interesting, she noted, that Sayid probably believed the face that just slid into place while he looked away was a good mask at hiding his emotions. Up to this trip, it was true for her. But now that she had spent steady time with him, she could see past it. The problem was his eyes. And his mouth, if watched closely enough.

Sayid's lips pressed just enough to read irritation. Even if the mouth was missed, those eyes announced the flash of anger that boiled just below the surface. The tiniest widening, the pupils moving from side to side, and she'd swear that the color deepened. She knew that wasn't really possible but would hold to the description.

He should learn to look down when he's angry, she considered as she took a breath. "Well, I know what he's doing. What about you?"

Sayid held her eyes with his. Then he blinked and his face relaxed just slightly. "It makes little sense to wander into the jungle with just a knife and Sawyer, looking for something that frightens boar."

He controlled and Sawyer deflected. Interesting contrast, she decided.

Kate smiled wanly and started after Sawyer. "Let's get this done and get him back to the beach. Then we can plan the next step."

Funny, she mused. The objective to teach how to track - ostensibly boar - hadn't changed. Yet, with the shifting focus from four legs to two then back made this outing feel weeks long. She would have been thrilled to find this trail yesterday. Prints, rootings, rubs, wallows - it was textbook perfect, the ultimate variety of teaching materials. There would have been no question of following today's boar as long as safely possible had they not stumbled across the human trail.

That and slogging hours in the rain, being hungry, thirsty, and wearing the same damp clothes two days straight had reduced her enthusiasm to nil. Sayid and his never-ending quest to know were welcome to spend weeks out here. She agreed with Sawyer, she realized. She wanted her tent, her dry clothes, the surf.

The trail ended at the edge of a smallish lake. There were fewer trees, smaller, allowing more light. The edge of the water was rocky in most places, sand or mud in others. Unlike the other pools she'd seen on the island, this had no waterfall.

Sawyer was stretched out on his belly on a flat rock, water bottle in the water. He climbed to his feet, screwing the cap on the bottle. "Mi casa es su casa," he said, spreading his arms. "And it's got cold runnin' water."

Kate smiled wryly, and scrambled up a flattish ledge. She dropped and unzipped the knapsack as she moved so the water bottle was in hand as she reached the water's edge. Sayid advanced to a different spot, and began to drink his fill.

"So," continued Sawyer, jumping from the stone and strolling in her direction. "Let's see now: learned how to use my tracking stick. Learned how to track Mohammed. Learned how to see shiny grass. Learned to find the way to Porky's place. So best I can tell, I successfully completed Kate's Trackin' 101."

"Where is that tracking stick?" asked Kate, peeking under her shoulder to see him.

"Dunno. It don't matter. Don't need it."

"You got lucky."

"Knew what I was lookin' for, didn't I? Smart enough to recognize it when I saw it, wasn't I? That don't sound like luck to me," snorted Sawyer.

From the corner of her eye, Kate saw Sayid stand. She gave him her full attention and watched him amble near the lake's edge. He squatted and examined the ground. She chuckled to herself and returned to filling her bottles.

When she slipped the last into the backpack, she spotted Sawyer wandering not far from the trail. Close to the door, she noted with an internal smirk. It wasn't an act. The man was done with this project.

"Hey Freckles!" he called, beckoning with his hand. "Got some take out up here!"

"Take out?" She hurried to him, aware of the weight of the water on her back.

Sawyer stood near a carcass of a boar that whole would feed the camp well for two or three days. Flies buzzed nosily about the deep gashes on its flank and dried splatters of blood. The neck and part of the back were all but gone.

She didn't consider herself squeamish but it was unexpected. She made a sound of disgust, and took an involuntary step back.

"Boar attack their own?" asked Sawyer, moving slowly around the body.

She could easily picture him poking it with a stick or kicking at it if she weren't there to witness it. "Sure but I don't think they're cannibalistic," said Kate, her upper lip curling. She lifted her eyes to his and then back to the boar.

He rounded the rear end. "This ain't no boar print," said Sawyer, jerking his chin. "It's big." He peered at it. "Got four - five! - toes."

"Is it human?" She gave the head some berth, finding it impossible not to stare at the mangled snout and mouth as she closed the distance between them.

"Needs to trim his nails if he is," Sawyer crouched for closer study. He straightened, apprehension clouding his eyes. "It ain't what I'm thinkin', is it?"

Her stomach tightened. She reached his side, dropped to one knee and stared at the indentation. Her throat tightened. She locked eyes with Sawyer. "What are you thinking?" She didn't want to say it.

He swallowed. "I don't have the gun." He swallowed again and tried for indifference. "Don't have no bullets anyhow." He almost hit the mark. Too bad she knew him as well as she did.

"It's a little different than I remember," she returned her attention to the print. "What's that between the toes?"

"It's bear," he announced, looking around the trees and lake. "It's a damn polar bear, ain't it?"

"It's a bear," she admitted, standing, and following suite. "Since we know one polar bear was here, it's no real stretch for there to be two. We should get out of here."

"It just ate. It ain't hungry. Right?"

"I don't know much about polar bears," she said quietly, almost whispering, suddenly wishing for Arzt. Somehow, she knew that he could produce the information she wanted. Were polar bears like grizzlies, storing their food? This was a very open area, indicating the answer was negative. So... were polar bears opportunistic hunters? Kill when can?

She would ask Arzt as soon as they got back to camp, she decided. Either way, standing around a fairly fresh bear kill was not a good idea. She licked her lips, feeling her heart pound, and reached for Sawyer's hand. She took a breath as his warm fingers wrapped around hers. "Let's get Sayid and go," her voice fell to a whisper.

They backed away from the dead animal, both craning their necks, as they made constant scans of the area. As they reached the edge of the beach, Kate turned. Where was Sayid?

Curiosity killed the Sayid, supplied her mind. She squashed the thought viciously.

"Sayid!" shouted Sawyer.

_Think think think_, screeched her mind. _Bear. How to deal with bears. Noise. Yes. Noise. Bears are afraid of humans. _

She flashed on the image of Sawyer's dead polar bear and its mouth full of huge teeth lying dead in the valley, before they heard the French transmission. The beast had rushed them despite the loud argument ongoing between Sayid and Sawyer.

The Iraqi stood. He was some distance around the lake. The trees were taller at that end, she noted distractedly.

Sawyer waved. "Gotta get outta here! C'mon!"

Sayid brushed his knees and started toward them.

She heard it before she saw it, of course. The crashing of plants. The low throated growl. She whirled around, releasing Sawyer's hand. Where? Where was it coming from?

Sayid seemed to hear it as well, looking wildly about. He seemed to be backing towards the trees.

Don't run don't run, her father's mantra echoed about her brain. Running evokes their chase instinct. You can't outrun a bear. Fight a black bear, curl up for a grizzly. Throw rocks at a black bear, fetal position for a grizzly.

What about polar bears? The son of bitch never mentioned polar bears.

It erupted between them and Sayid. The observant part of her mind determined it close to the size of Sawyer's kill. It swung its head back and forth. She knew bears had an amazing sense of smell - her father swore by a mile - so it wasn't just catching their scents now. How did a bear determine what to kill? What to chase?

_Don't run don't run. You can't outrun a bear._

Sawyer grabbed her waist and spun her so they were no longer facing the animal. She stumbled; she hadn't expected that. He ran past her, clamping his hand around her wrist, pulling her behind him.

_Don't run don't run. You can't outrun a bear_.

She opened her mouth to protest. Sawyer yanked hard - she wasn't running all out - and she tripped. His hold on her broke. Unbalanced, he fell to the ground.

Kate, balance regained, spun around.

She did not see the bear.

She did not see Sayid.

_No no no_! screamed a voice inside her head. She began to run towards the end of the lake.

A weight hit her. Arms encircled her legs. She hit the ground hard, knocking all wind from her. When she could, she twisted, pounding fists at her captor, struggling to free her legs. She could do damage by kicking.

Sawyer grunted. "Dammit Kate, think! You can't do anything for him." He rolled away from her.

She pressed her face into her hands and turned on her back. She could see the treetops, the sky. She sat up. _No no no_, wailed her mind. She brought her knees to her chin, dropping her face against them. She sobbed. _No no no. _

Sawyer rubbed a soft circle on her back, then slipped his hand under her arm. He pulled her up. "We have to get out of here."

Her legs cooperated as her mind careened wildly. Sayid had to gotten away. He had to be fine. Nothing could happen to Sayid.

They entered the jungle away from the trail - a new pushdown, she thought with a wild mental laugh - Sawyer leading, her hand tightly encased by his. Her mind began to clear as they tramped slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible.

She stopped. "No."

Sawyer sighed and faced her. He cupped her elbows with his hands. "No? Then what? Go after him? Watch that ... bear..." His voice cracked and he looked away.

"No," she said with force. "We go back. We don't leave him." Jack went back for Charlie when the Thing ate the pilot. She went back for Jack. She would go back for Sayid.

"Freckles," Sawyer's voice held a timbre she hadn't heard before. Kindness? He pulled her into his chest. It rumbled when he spoke. "That bear ... he couldn't outrun that bear. He had - has a bum leg."

"No one can outrun a bear," she looked up with eyes swimming with tears.

He frowned and nodded. He closed his eyes and lightly kissed her forehead. "Yeah," he whispered, sliding his arms around her shoulders.

She pressed her face against his shoulder, her arms tightening around his waist.

They stood, holding one another for some time. The small animal noises slowly resumed their volume. There were no more crashing sounds, no growls.

"We go back," said Kate, stepping away, her eyes on her shoes.

"He's a realist, our Omar," rejoined Sawyer. "He'd figure out the odds of survivin' a bear attack - in his head and in French - and he'd tell you to go back to camp. Let's do that. Let's get Locke and come back. Hell Freckles, even if we find him and he's still alive, we won't be able to do a thing to help him. We couldn't get him back to camp alive.

"I'm going back." she whispered it. She wouldn't say it, but couldn't stop the thought 'he wouldn't die alone'.

He ducked his head and blew a long breath towards the heavens. "How long do we wait?"

"You can scare a black bear off with rocks. And sticks. If it's not defending its cub."

"Ya did notice that bear wasn't black?"

"Let's each get a stick, and some rocks."

Sawyer fixed his gaze over her head. After a time, he sighed. "Freckles, I want you on my side when the monster comes outta the jungle. If ya have one of those kiwis, throw it first."

They scavenged until two hefty branches - not too heavy to handle - were harvested. They left the jungle cautiously, and gathered hand sized stones from the beach, dropping them into Sawyer's backpack.

They trudged in silence to where Sayid was last seen standing. Sawyer touched her arm. "Listen, you head back to camp. Get Locke. Get Jack. I'll find ...him."

She balled her fists. "Goddamn it! What's with you men? You're not safer out here than me! You go get Locke! You go get Jack! I'm finding Sayid." Her voice tapered off. "Sawyer, stop it. One minute you're going along. Next minute you're not."

Sawyer didn't smile. "Promise me we ain't playin' heroes."

She didn't blink or bother to cross her fingers. "Promise."

"Lead on, MacDuff." Resignation underscored his voice.

The bear's trail was easy to follow. Its weight running tore small plants from the ground. Those that stay planted were bent, torn, maimed. She ignored the tingling down her neck as her imagination supplied the terror of Sayid's run.

The trail was short - maybe five yards - and ended at the trunk of a heavily branched tree.

Sawyer put a hand on her shoulder. They stopped a few feet before, straining ears for sound of danger.

Quiet.

They exchanged glances and at her nod, proceeded closer to the tree. The bark was scratched, clawed. With no problem, she could picture the wild attempts of the Iraqi to evade the mighty paw swipes. She closed her eyes, a sob fighting to escape her throat. She pushed it back. Later. In her tent. In her safe tent on the beach.

Sawyer was at her side, hand on her arm. He indicated with his head away from the tree. "Looks like ... It's less flattened, like maybe it was slower but it goes that way." Sawyer pointed to their left.

She bit her bottom lip, straightened her back and stalked to the tree. She stared at it for a moment, then blinked to actually see it.

She covered her mouth with her hand and turned to the direction of the continuing trail, expecting to see drag marks. The bear had gone this way, that was clear. But there was no sign that it was pulling a bloody Sayid with it. Had it left him behind? Threat eliminated, move on? Were polar bears were like grizzlies?

She trotted around the tree, steeling herself for a horrific find. Her foot struck an object that rolled with her weight. She fell to her knees. She whipped around and grabbed the offending article. It was one of Sayid's shoes. She dropped onto her rump, spotted a water bottle, next to it, scattered were kiwis. Contents from his backpack. Where was he? She looked up.

There. Her height. Blood. On the tree.

She felt kicked in the stomach. This time the sob choked her, shook her shoulders. What was it about Sayid that she kept expecting the impossible?

"Freckles!" Sawyer was coming from the other direction. He pointed up.

Her mind suddenly supplied the body of the pilot suspended in the branches. Charlie

hanging in the banyan grove. Had the bear flung Sayid's body up there? Her mind argued against the possibility as she raised her eyes.

Sayid was seated on a large branch, resting against the trunk, legs dangling, about ten feet.

She shouted his name, scrambling to her feet. There was no response. Kate could see streaks of blood on the bark. Had he made it that far only to bleed to death? She circled the tree again, studying it, Sawyer at her heels.

She shed the backpack without thought, planted her booted foot in on a low branch, and hefted herself up. She climbed quickly, carefully ignoring the blood. She could clearly see the source. Sayid's right calf was mauled, his khakis hanging in shreds from the knee, blood covering his toes.

She grasped the branch over her head and pulled up. The trunk of the tree was between them. She could see the top of his head, legs slack, arms loosely wrapped about the trunk. He must be leaning into the trunk, his head down.

Kate scooted close to the trunk, locking her knees around the branch, anchoring herself with her right hand on a close branch. She lifted her left hand and hesitatingly touched Sayid's shoulder.

He moaned, his arms tightening around the trunk.

She gasped, losing her hold and almost falling. She caught her balance and reached to him again. "Sayid?"

"Kate!" shouted Sawyer. "What's going on?"

She called to Sayid again. Monkeylike, she made her way through the branches until she was on the same side as the injured man. From here, she could see his backpack sliced almost neatly, a flap hanging open. She tested each perch carefully until she could snake her arm around one of his. "How are you?"

He turned his bearded face to her. His pallor was ghastly. He smiled faintly. "I am injured." His voice was scratchy, soft, halting. "The bear tore my calf with its claws." He turned his head back, resting his forehead against the bark.

Sawyer called angrily for her to answer him. She reported Sayid's condition, adding that she needed help getting him down.

She could hear Sawyer grunt as he maneuvered through the branches. She stroked Sayid's arm as she listened to Sawyer's progress. "Are you in a lot of pain?" She realized the question was inane.

Sayid shook his head minutely. "What do they say in the films? Just a scratch." His speech was slow. His eyelids stayed closed, his arms relaxing their hold. "To answer a question you once asked, this polar bear could not climb trees. I believe that was to my benefit."

Sawyer's head popped up by her shoes. "So chief, ya raced a bear, huh?" He muscled his way to the side of Kate. He looked at her questioningly.

She shrugged. He tried a few questions to Sayid who responded once. Kate shook her head at Sawyer. Sayid hadn't opened his eyes since she first arrived. If it was too much effort for that, holding his own weight was not possible. Telling Sayid that they would be back, she indicated for Sawyer to join her on the ground.

She had seen vines on the trail, she said as her feet touched solid earth. They could use those as rope. Thread them through the backpack straps, wrap them around his waist. Sawyer could determine which branch to use as a pulley so he could stay on the ground, control the vine and she could climb down with Sayid as he was lowered.

Sawyer argued against her going into the jungle alone. She responded with the obvious: she knew where to find the vines. Agonizingly aware of time passing, she relieved Sawyer of his knife, emptied her backpack, and ran.

People went into shock from blood loss. People died from shock. She was brutally aware of these facts. She had no idea how much blood Sayid had lost, but she knew they had to get him back to Jack and the infirmary.

Now that she was moving and planning, her head was clear of all fear. She raced across the lake area and into the jungle at the trail. The vines weren't too far in and she found them with little trouble. As she hacked down the thickest of them, it suddenly occurred to her that the lake with its rocks reminded her of an old city zoo cage with polar bears. She remembered the bears lying on the slabs, looking miserable in the heat, and wondering why they just didn't dive into the water, that it would have to be cooler.

She bundled the vines and dashed back to Sawyer. She dropped the cuttings at his feet, plopped next to them and began to weave them into the proper length rope. He watched her for a few minutes, and then started on the other end.

The need to hurry - Sayid needed medical attention, the bear could return at any moment - had to be balanced against a strong rope. The tension filled her stomach, threatened her lungs. She wondered if she had five seconds to spare for full panic. They worked in silence, exchanging glances with each other, up the tree, around them, straining to listen for any sound of return.

Sawyer stood. "Done," he announced.

She walked the length of the new vine, Sawyer staying still, and they tested its strength by pulling hard. With his nod, vine attached to her belt, she scrambled once more up to Sayid.

Once all was in place, she whispered to Sayid to let go, then yelled to Sawyer. She guided Sayid as best she could without losing her grip, moving to the next lower branch as needed. It seemed to take hours as she waited to hear a snap of the vine, the rip of the backpack, the crash of the bear, but Sawyer smoothly lowered Sayid without incident. She felt her lungs work for what felt like the first time as Sawyer wrapped his arms around Sayid to ease the injured man gently to the ground.

Kate jumped. There was no time to savor the relief that flooded her. She felt like a bear was breathing down her neck. "We gotta get out of here now," she said as Sawyer sawed at Sayid's backpack straps, tossing it away and gently lowering him flat.

"How about a little first aid," replied Sawyer, now using his knife to cut away the shredded pant material. "Gimme some water."

She hurried to the pile of bottles and tossed him one. Sawyer gingerly poured fluid down the flayed calf. Sayid gasped and started, eyes now open wide. He looked wildly about.

"Hey skipper," Sawyer said softly. "Got ya outta there. Just relax now."

Kate knelt by the dark-haired man, taking his hand in hers, gently stroking his hair. "It's okay," she smiled. "We're going back to camp now."

Sayid met her eyes and nodded. He lowered his head, closing his eyes once more.

"Let's get this bleeding stopped," muttered Sawyer. "Pressure, right Freckles?"

Sawyer pulled off his shirt and pressed it against the gashes that still bled. They worked together, calming Sayid as needed. She was sweating and panting. She hated blood.

Sawyer impressed her. He was gentle and effective. Once they agreed the bleeding was contained, he rinsed the shirt and carefully wrapped it around Sayid's calf. Kate aided the prone man, bolstering his head while he slowly and thirstily drank.

Sawyer stood. It wasn't the best bandaging job in the world, he observed. But it would keep the flies off.

Time to go, he announced. Kate reloaded her backpack with the remaining filled bottles. She scanned the area once more, then joined Sawyer. They carefully lifted Sayid to his feet, slipped his arms over their necks, and left the tree behind them.

A small groan was the only sound Sayid made. She wasn't sure if he was conscious. She rather hoped that he wasn't. It would be easier on the Iraqi if he wasn't.

It was slow, almost tortuous going. Kate was aware of every jostle, every uneven step. It brought to mind the long trip home from the hospital after Diane had her hysterectomy; her mother clutching a bed pillow tightly to her incision, crying out with every pothole Patrick failed to avoid.

Once they regained the cover of the jungle, the bear's breath left her neck. They stopped once past the original boar print, panting with exertion, muscles screaming so that as they were lowering Sayid, a muscle in her shoulder cramped and she dropped him the last foot despite her attempts not to. She fell to her knees, patting him frantically.

"Sorry sorry," she cried.

Sayid shook his head once, eyes closed.

"Can't do this all the way back to camp," Sawyer rotated his neck, flexing his shoulders, rubbing his bicep. "Got a plan B?"

Kate passed him water. He was right.

She argued against his suggestion that one of them wait here with Sayid while the other fetch help. Splitting up was never the answer as far as she was concerned.

"Well," retorted Sawyer, "We can't use an armchair and unless you got a jetpack on ya I don't know about…."

The answer came to her: a litter.

They could use branches as the frame and weave vines for a bed. Sawyer sighed. Well, it worked in every western he ever saw, he admitted, rising to get the materials. He was an old hand at picking out sticks by now, he assured Kate, and stepped into the brush.

Kate pulled her shirt over her head, soaked it with water and wiped Sayid's brow. He was muttered incoherently in something other than English, - was it Arabic? - his eyes locked on hers. She helped him drink, slowly.

"Shhh," she whispered, cupping his cheek. "We'll get you back to Jack. I'm sorry we can't do much for you right here. But we'll get you back to Jack."

"Well there's a new look for you, Freckles," Sawyer returned, two stout branches being dragged after him. "Next time I cut myself shavin', I know where I'm headin'."

She told him what a pig he was and as Sawyer plunged back into the brush, announcing he spotted vines for the webbing, she realized how much better it felt to have Sawyer behaving like Sawyer instead of Jack. She peeled the bark from the branches, murmuring nonsense steadily to Sayid, who seemed to slip in and out of consciousness.

Sawyer returned with armfuls of vine. They applied themselves to the litter, weaving around the branches a mat Sayid's width. They worked well together, she noted, taking the knife he offered before she asked for it.

"Oughta go in business together," commented Sawyer. "If Omar won't build coconut cars, then litters'll be the transportation of the island. I can see a real boomin' market. Lots of profit."

She didn't ask if profit was all he thought about. She knew better now. Had she always?

Dusk was falling as they finished. The injured man cried out as they lifted him onto his conveyance. Kate remembered why she never wanted to go into the medical field as she tore at her lip with her teeth. The bottom lip was raw.

She pulled on her shirt. It was still damp. Things kept staying the same.

They moved to the head of the litter, took a branch each and began to pull.

"Looked easier when John Wayne did it," grunted Sawyer.

"Did they have a horse?" she retorted.

They tried for gentleness initially, then realizing the impossibility of it, picked up the pace. It had to be like pulling off a Band-Aid, reasoned Sawyer. Just get it over with.

Through trial and error, they established a rhythm that made good progress. Mentally it was difficult to take breaks, but their arms and legs demanded them. They rationed the water, not certain of their travel time, rubbed each other's arms, talked to Sayid's non-responsive form. Sawyer checked the wounded leg his first chance. It looked like the bleeding stopped, he reported.

On the last rest before they left the jungle, Sayid began to babble unintelligibly.

"Ain't French," stated Sawyer with authority. "Wants a good stiff drink. Then a woman. Sounds like he thinks he has a future."

It was the shortest stop that they made.

They broke the jungle's edge at full dark. As best Kate could tell, it was close to where they had entered... just yesterday? It felt like eons, like she had aged fifty years in the time they were gone.

They carefully eased the litter to the ground. Sayid continued to murmur. She made out 'Allah' as she sank thankfully next to the structure. She patted his arm, touched his hair. "I don't wanna be John Wayne anymore," she pulled up her knees and leaned her head against them.

"Gimme me a drink," sighed Sawyer, collapsing full length next to her. "What are we - three hours from camp?"

Kate sat up and wiggled out of her backpack. She handed him a bottle. "It's the last of it." She draped her arms around her knees as she pressed her cheek against them.

"I'm an opportunistic bastard. I don't care what I want in thirty minutes," muttered Sawyer, propping up on his elbows. He took a pull and offered it to her.

She considered, then shook her head. "I didn't know my shoulders could be this tired."

"Don't think about it, Freckles. We're almost there." He finished the bottle.

"Liar." She slipped the bottle and cap into the bag. Needing to keep all resources intact was a bear - she clamped down on the thought and pushed herself up.

"Yeah, well. Yeah." He groaned, his head falling back, exposing his throat. She offered a hand. He glared, then took it, rising stiffly.

"We're getting closer," she said to Sayid as she wrapped her hand around the branch. At Sawyer's nod, she leaned into it and they started across the meadow. They were closer to the beach, she said to herself. Each step was closer to the beach.

Sawyer spotted it first. She didn't believe him when he said he said fire. They didn't stop pulling, arguing until he roared that she look over there, dammit!

It was a flame. A torch? A camp fire?

Like moths, they moved towards it. Had they not been so tired, they would have run. Probably best for Sayid that they didn't, said Sawyer. They shouted instead, aware that they probably weren't within earshot.

Two dark forms emerged from the night, running towards them, another behind it with a torch, hurrying. Not bears, was her first thought. The shapes became Jack, Boone and Locke bearing the torch, babbling with questions, exclamations; surrounding them. It was noise to her as Locke gently took her pole of the litter. She looked for Sawyer. He had surrendered his job to Boone and was telling Jack over and over that Sayid's leg was hurt. Jack squatted near Sayid's leg and unwrapped the shirt from it.

Boone pushed a water bottle into her hand. She smiled her thanks and drank. He followed it with a mango. A sweet, ripe wonderful mango. She considered proposing, licking the juice from her lips. Jack rose, an obvious signal as they all moved. She and Sawyer were following the litter. It was good.

Jack dropped back. He took Kate's hand, rubbing it. It was a medical touch, she realized, and listened to his questions. Sawyer let her provide most of the answers, offering little as possible.

She couldn't read Jack tonight. Right now, she didn't care. She would again. Probably as soon as tomorrow. But right now whether Jack was either irritated, or guilty about something, or scared didn't matter to her. They had Sayid. He was alive. Sawyer came through. How Jack felt about her didn't matter tonight.

She was happy to see a roaring campfire, Locke's handiwork she was sure, was their destination. As Locke and Boone lowered the litter, Jack crouched by Sayid's leg, medical bag in hand.

She sat next to Sawyer, watching Jack. The flash of firelight now and again had to be a needle, she realized. She gazed into the fire, recalling sewing Jack's flesh. She shuddered. That was beyond eons again. She glanced at Sawyer, "Are you cold?"

He shook his head. "Fine, Freckles." He lifted his arm and she scooted closer, tucking in against him. His bare skin felt cool.

"Still lying, I see."

He smiled wearily at her, a real smile. It was good.

Jack closed his bag with a snap and with Boone's help wrapped blankets around Sayid. The firelight reflected Sayid's eyes. He was conscious. He sipped the water Jack offered.

Jack stood, said something and walked over to them. "You're sure you weren't hunting?" he asked with an edge to his voice.

"The bear mighta been. We weren't," said Sawyer.

"Will he be okay?" asked Kate.

"Nothing's one hundred percent here," said Jack. "But I think so. You did a good job stopping the bleeding." He glanced over at Sayid. "He's a bit shocky, but should be okay. Miraculously, no major blood vessels were hit." He rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes. "He might have a limp."

"Might not," offered Locke calmly, gazing beyond the fire. "This island offers miracles. They should be accepted with grace."

Jack looked at him hard, then shook his head. "If no one objects, I'd like to get Sayid back to the caves as soon as possible."

Locke extinguished the fire then took his place at the litter. He and Boone lifted on count. She and Sawyer carried the torches, Jack following at Sayid's head.

"We'll talk tomorrow about the boar," said Locke to her.

She nodded. Talking seemed impossible right now. She glanced over to Sawyer. He smiled again. They were done.

Finish


End file.
